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teddynottss · 10 days

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• — MY SHORTS DONT HAVE LACES — •

PAIRING(S): theodore nott x fem. reader !!

WARNING(S): smut

SUMMARY: Hermoine is aware of y/n’s feelings toward theo, therefore when she gets the chance, hermoine makes it her job to get them close to eachother

A/N: i hope you enjoy this and check my most recent post with tom riddle please show it some support 😭🙏 (this is edited)

——————————————————

You and Hermione were in your shared dorm, getting ready together for the pool party thrown.

You put your matching black swimsuits on and put your hair up so that it doesnt get wet from the water.

“Hermoineeeee” you sigh. “Is- is uhh is, is theo gonna be there?” You ask hesitantly.

Hermoine had always been aware of your feelings toward theo and she made no effort to stop teasing you about it.

“Ugh, y/n, yes he is” she spoke as she rolled her eyes.

“Do i look good, should i tie my hair or keep it in a claw-clip like this? Omg idk what to do i feel so ugly. Should i change this swimsuit?” you complain

“Y/l/n, one more word i swear. You look gorgeous, ur perfect. How many times do i need to tell you that?” She said.

You jump into her arms before she could finish, “god hermoine i love you” you say.

“Yeah i know bla bla bla bla, now we have a party to get to and boys to impress” she winked before dragging you out of the room.

You get to the party and ur eyes immediately begin scanning the room, in search of theo. In no time you spot him, sat in the hot tub with cormac, harry, ron, ginny, and luna.

Hermoine notices your intentions and grabs your hand leading you to the hot tub, “hermoine, no, im not ready yet!!” you sigh.

“too bad” she says before jumping in the hot tub. “shoot, y/n, there’s no more place for you, but im sure theo would be more than pleasured to keep you on his lap” she giggled.

You and theo didn’t hate eachother, you weren’t friends either. However, there was always tension between the two of you, even Neville could catch it.

He patted on his lap, gesturing for you to come over “c’mere” he said. You drag ur feet in the water and adjust ur sitting on his lap.

Looks and smiles exchange between everyone in the tub and you begin to feel the tension form. Cormac, next to you, starts talking about his previous experience with the ladies and other stuff.

And while ur listening, trying to act interested in whatever he’s talking about, you feel something poke from under you.

You also feel theo’s hands wrap around ur waist from under water which makes you let out a loud gasp, loud enough for the people in the hot tub to hear at least.

Everyones heads turn around to you, “sorry guys, thought i saw a bug” you laugh it off and all ur friends go back to their conversations.

The poking from under you only got more annoying, so you turn ur head, “theo, the laces of ur swimsuit are poking me, can u do something about it?” You speak.

“Cara mia, my shorts don’t have laces” he whispers to you, you could feel his breath on ur ear. “Fuck theo” you say.

He looks at you and then says something again “i say we get out of here darling before i can’t control myself anymore”.

You immediately jump up, and theo follows you. “If you’ll excuse us, we have some business to manage” he jokes pointing at the both of you.

“Get out of here man” Ron laughs.

“God please no” this, from Luna.

“Off you go” hermoine says smiling.

Theo then grabs your hand, two towels, and starts leading you back to his dorm. On ur way there, he wraps one of the towels around you, making sure you’re not cold.

When you get there, the Slytherin boy wastes no time locking the door and smashing his lips onto yours, immediately also allowing his tongue to slip in.

The kiss was not sweet, it was slow yet passionate and hungry. The boy was practically eating your face off while he has you pinned on the wall.

In a sudden movement, theo slips his hands under your thighs and carries you up into his arms. He carries you to his bed, the kiss ongoing, and makes you lay there.

He wastes no time unclasping your bikini and sucking on your tits. Your fingers meet his hair and you start tugging at it as he sucks on your nipples.

He leaves kisses on your boobs and cups them while he moves back up to your lips. They meet again and this time the kiss is faster, deeper, and hungrier.

“I- i.. fuck” he says in between kisses.

“Mhm?” you wonder.

“My friend down there, fucking hell, he needs attention.” the boy explains.

You laugh and start working your way, trying to remove his shorts. He turns over making sure to provide you with enough space to take control.

You make your way down, leaving kisses down his ab lines. You slowly lower his shorts and begin trailing his v line with your fingers.

You then remove his shorts completely and for a second, you are taken back by his large size.

His wet, throbbing cock was now inches away from your face. You begin by licking his tip, slowly and carefully before taking him in all in one go.

To that, he gasps, his hands then move to your head guiding you, he grabs onto your hair and leads you.

He even makes you gag a few times when he hits your throat, which you pinch his thigh for that.

You speed up your movements as you wanted to be the one to make him cum first, and you wanted to be the one that makes it happen faster.

“Cara mia” he spoke. “Im gonna.. soon. Im gonna.. fuck”.

You mumble a quick mhm as you speed your movements.

“Fuck you’re so good at this”. he praised

You smiled to yourself before he finally came on your mouth, he squeezed your hair as he released.

You move back up to him and stick your tongue out to show him you swallowed it. You then start kissing him again, slipping your tongue inside, his hands wrapping around your waist.

“You know ur actually gorgeous, youre so perfect. A goddess i swear” he said as you were sat on his lap, staring deep into his eyes.

“Tell me something in italian” you ask.

“Hmm? Something like what ehh?” he smirks.

“Anything” you smile.

“Well.. ti scoperò finché non potrai più camminare.” he said in a whisper.

“And that means?” you wonder.

“I’ll fuck you till you cant walk” he spills.

“Oh is that so?” you giggle.

he nods and then you give him the look of affirmation before he slams into you, which makes you let out a gasp before adjusting yourself to his size.

You then start working ur hips in sync with his, riding him while his hands roam ur body, touching every bit of skin he could get his hands on.

“Fff.. fuckkk, you look too good like this” he praised. “dannatamente perfetto”. (fucking perfect)

you smile and in a sudden movement, he flips you over so hes in control, he starts speeding and you grab onto the sheets for dear life.

He leans in and kisses you, you moan into his mouth and his swollen tip hits your spot, the one that sends you to the moon and back.

“FUCKING HELL!!” you scream, “THEODORE IM GONNA CUM”. He speeds up his movements and guides you as you release.

“è stato fantastico, bellissimo” (that felt amazing, beautiful) he spoke slumping on the bed next to you.

“You really gotta start teaching me italian so i can understand what ur saying” you chuckle.

“Oh yeah? What if i dont want you to understand what im saying” he teased.

“Uhh oh, we might have a problem then” you both laugh as he hugs u tightly, kissing ur temple.

#theodore nott #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin #slytherin boys #harry potter #lorenzo zurzolo #theodore nott x reader

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prokopetz · 1 year

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One of the more frequent anecdotes you'll hear from Dungeons & Dragons podcasters is that any time they switch to a system other than D&D, even for a one-off arc, they immediately experience a large drop in listenership – sometimes up to eighty percent! – only to see most of those listeners come back once they switch back to D&D.

What's interesting about this is that the greater part of D&D podcast listeners do not play Dungeons & Dragons. They might have a general idea of what the game's rules look like based on what they've been able to passively absorb from listening to the podcast, but they don't have regular groups, they don't own the rulebooks or maintain subscriptions to the e-book service, and many of them have never rolled a d20 in their lives.

How, then, do we account for that sudden drop in listenership? Why does which system a tabletop roleplaying podcast is using matter so much if most listeners neither know nor care about the rules?

The answer is, unfortunately, quite simple.

In many ways, advocacy for indie RPGs has never moved past Ron Edwards' infamous argument that playing Dungeons & Dragons causes actual, physical brain damage. Deep down, a lot of indie RPG advocacy seems to believe there's something sinister in the structure of D&D that's responsible for what they regard as its unaccountable popularity. You can see this in everything from the casual assumption that D&D players aren't "really" having fun (and all that's needed to convert them to other systems is to show them they've been tricked into falsely believing they're enjoying an objectively un-fun activity), to the rambling thinkpieces that talk about getting folks to try other games like they're liberating people from the fucking Matrix.

Yet we come back to the same problem: how can the mechanical structure of D&D be implicated for its culturally dominant position in the minds of those who've never picked up a twenty-sided die?

The truth is that Dungeons & Dragons enjoys cultural dominance, both within the hobby and elsewhere, because it's owned by the same multinational corporation that owns Monopoly and My Little Pony, and benefits from all the marketing strength its owner can bring to bear. The problem, in brief, is brand loyalty. The aforementioned podcasts lose listeners in droves whenever they give a non-D&D system a spin because all most of those departing listeners care about is whether the thing that they're listening to is called "Dungeons & Dragons". The structural particulars of the mechanics are irrelevant.

The bitter pill we've got to swallow as indie RPG authors is that we can't fix brand loyalty in tabletop RPGs by fucking around with the shape of the dice. There are lots of productive causes we can support to help address the problem, but they mostly have do to with intellectual property and antitrust regulations and such, which are areas where our finely honed ability to debate the correct way to pretend to be an elf is of very limited utility.

Like, I enjoy an abstruse argument about the ideology of dice-rolling as much as the next nerd, but let's not fool ourselves that we're speaking truth to power here. The gamer who just wants to roll dice to hit the dragon with their sword is not your enemy.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #dungeons & dragons #d&d #hasbro #marketing #capitalism #violence mention #swearing

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katiexpunk · 4 months

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okay i’m feeling a little delulu and playing pool with the boys right now. ideas are rolling and i want a fic where joel fucks reader on a pool table (breeding kink maybe?!?) you’re the best

Run the Table | Pairing Joel and Tommy Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: You're home for Christmas, only to find yourself there for the New Year. You decide to blow off some steam, only to end up at Joel's Place, your old local watering hole. Bits of your past get dredged up, and before you know it, Joel and Tommy have you bent over a pool table. Word Count: ~6K Warnings: Dubcon from the perspective that the reader is a little drunk, but she's definitely a willing participant. Family feuds. Alcohol. Age gap implied but not referenced explicitly. Flirting and bantering. Threesome with the Miller Bros. Betting. Pool. Oral (m and f receiving). Fingering. Praise. Use of daddy. Fucking on pool table. Pool. Suggestive use of a cue stick. Dom undertones from Joel. Hard core breeding kink. References to pregnancy. Cum kink. Cum swallowing. Praise kink. Unprotected p in v. Creampie. Use of pet names. Tommy and Joel are suave in this, but reader gives them a run for their money. Use of slut. No descriptions of reader, except that she has boobs and hair. Minimally edited. Filth, filth, filth. Authors Note: Thank you so much for the ask, Abby @javipispunk/@barzalmatty! This was such a treat to write. You naughty girl, I hope this inspires you, or at the very least, makes you O. Thanks for submitting this ask in babe, ily. This will be my last fic of 2023. Thank you all so much for your continued support.

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

The living room, which was all holiday cozy a few days ago, now feels like a battleground in the weird liminal space between Christmas and the New Year. You can’t remember the last time you spent more than three consecutive days with your family, and now you remember why.

The family drama has hit an all-time high, with arguments about the dumbest stuff echoing through the house – your mother yelling that someone put her Pyrex in the wrong cabinet, your father yelling at your brother for adjusting the settings on the remote. Hell, even the dog is over it; spending most of the day lounging in front of the LED fireplace that your mother picked up at Costco last winter. You never really understood that one, given your living room has an actual functioning fireplace.

Of course, you all love each other, it’s just that the festive candle is now nearly snuffed out; not to be lit again until Thanksgiving. Or if your mother had it her way, Easter, but you haven’t cared much for Easter since that one year that your cousin Ron ate way too many hard-boiled eggs and couldn’t stop farting all night. Never again, you swore to yourself then, and still swear to yourself now.

You come back to your hometown maybe once a year, twice if someone dies. You haven’t lived here in years, and yet the streets bear the weight of nostalgia, each corner holding echoes of memories that time has both polished and weathered. The town is a paradox, frozen in a bittersweet dance between familiarity and change.

You’re cozied up under a blanket on the couch, a glass of red swirling in one hand, the Eve Babitz novel your roommate gifted to you in the other. Try as you might, you just can’t seem to relax; the words on the page are blending into a snarled blob of ink. The tension is too much; the heavy air in the house makes it difficult to concentrate. Fuck this.

You throw on your coat and slip out of the house. I’m going out, be back later, you call out but you don’t wait for your words to be acknowledged before the front door slams shut, not that anyone was listening in the first place.

You pause on your front stoop in the cool night air and take a deep inhale, tilting your head up to the sky, the moonlight coating your face like a veil. The winter air that fills your lungs makes you feel alive, and it’s then that you realize how close you were to suffocating mere moments ago.

You stand under the stars and consider your options before eventually landing on the best of them. Your old watering hole from college; the one with the heavy pours and the best pool tables in the town – Joel’s Place.

The snow crunches under your feet as you make your way there. In the silence, it’s easy to let your let your mind wander. You haven’t been back in years, and yet, your mind still drifts to thoughts of dimples and salt-and-pepper curls. You wonder if he’ll remember you – not likely, you think.

Your stomach flutters at the thought anyway.

++++

The door to Joel’s Place creaks open, releasing a gust of frigid winter air that clings to your coat. Note to self, bring a scarf next time. The warmth inside is a welcome contrast, and the familiar scent of the aged wood and whiskey acts like a time machine and transports you back in time to your early 20s. It’s just the same; the mahogany bar, stools with cracked leather seats, and vintage beer signs adorning the walls.

While aspects of the town may have changed, you’re pleased to find that Joel’s Place has not.

As the door swings shut behind you, you find yourself in a familiar dimly lit space, except – it’s not – it’s quiet. A little too quiet. The pool tables in the distance stand untouched, their felt surfaces waiting for the familiar crack of balls colliding. The hanging lights above them cast a warm, dim glow, illuminating the emptiness that seems to linger. It starkly contrasts the energy you were surrounded by earlier in the night.

The place is empty, except for one customer at the bar. The bartender – Joel, you hope – is nowhere to be seen. You hesitate for a moment, taking in the scene before deciding to sit an appropriate two stools away from the man, not wanting to be awkward. You don’t think he would mind, not really, but you suppose the rule in a situation like this is similar to public transport etiquette. If there’s more than one open seat, you never sit directly next to anyone.

“Excuse me, sir – is this seat taken?” You ask, a hint of sweetness and formality behind your voice. You know it’s not, but the manners that were hammered into you from your tidy upbringing are hard to shake.

The man looks at you, the neck of the beer he’s nursing parting from his lips as he does. Now that you have a full look at him, he’s quite gorgeous. Olive sunkissed skin, dark curls, deep brown eyes that all but scream trouble.

“All yours, sugar,” he responds. And oh, he’s southern to boot, with a hint of a twang behind his inflection.

You slip your puffy coat off your shoulders, revealing your ensemble for the night; a simple pair of jeans and a tight long-sleeve cashmere sweater that cups the curve of your breasts and lifts them just right, a lovely slit down the middle that exposes just enough. You hook your coat under the bar and pull out the stool, its metal legs scratching against the floor as you do.

“So, the producers didn’t have enough to pay for some extras for this show, or what?” you joke, a slight smirk on your face as you settle yourself onto the stool.

“‘Spose not,” he responds, a hint of a smile on his face as he brings the bottle back to his lips, his eyes locking with yours as he does.

“And the uh–bartender, Joel, if I remember correctly,” you say, a questioning tone behind your voice, “he here, or is this just a one-man show?”

And wouldn’t that be something, you here all alone with just him.

“Can’t be a one-man show with you here, darlin',” he responds, his dark eyes drinking you down like the beer in his hand. “He’s here, just in the back hooking up a new keg,” he adds.

“Oh,” you respond, your voice a smidge too high – like you’re some fucking school girl about to see her crush in 3rd period. “Good, that’s good. Can’t have all of our friends here go thirsty,” you retort, making a vague gesture with your palm to the empty space in the bar in an attempt to recover yourself from your very obvious interest in the bartender being here. So stupid.

“Can’t have that, they’re a rowdy bunch” he responds with a wink and you flash him a warm smile. “You’re funny, I like you,” he adds, “name’s Tommy, by the way, and you are?”

You give him yours with an extension of your hand. His swallows yours, but he’s gentle and discerning with the shake he gives it. He holds you there, just looking, and you feel a warmth creep up to your face. With your hands still interlocked, a broad figure pushes through the door from the kitchen with a resounding thud.

You turn to face him, and his amber eyes immediately find yours. Your breath hitches in your throat, your pulse quickens, and you’re now acutely aware of the fact that you’re still linked with Tommy.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Either ‘m getting old and my eyes are deceiving me, or it’s little Miss Shark sitting at my bar, chatting up my brother,” Joel lets out, his voice low and even. The corners of his mouth lift and you think he might smile, but his face goes just as unreadable as always as he grabs for a bottle behind the bar. “Been a long time since I’ve seen you around here, sweetheart. Good thing, too. You ran out some of my best-paying customers."

You don’t dwell on the comment, your mind is too absorbed, drunk off the fact that he remembers you. It’s been years, but you swear he hasn’t aged a day. You can’t help but eye fuck him as he slides a glass in front of you, and pours you a finger of whiskey. Not only does he remember you, but he remembers your go-to drink, as well.

As you lift the edge of the glass to your lips, you see Tommy shift his gaze from Joel and back to you, his face twisted in an expression of disbelief.

“Wait, little Miss Shark,” he begins, tipping the bottle in his hands in your direction as if to point at you, “Yo–you’re the one who ran the tables here for years? Shit, darlin’,” he says, dropping his gaze to the bartop for a moment, trying to hide the fact that he’s impressed, before looking back at you under his lashes.

“That so hard to believe?” you respond, your voice coated in the warmth of the alcohol. Your cheeks are hot, but you’re not confident it’s just from the liquor; more than likely it’s a result of Joel’s eyes, heavy like boulders, that haven’t left you since he walked in.

Tommy doesn’t answer you.

“Not my fault they underestimated me,” you retort, nursing down the amber liquid in your glass.

Joel laughs.

You and Tommy both turn to face him.

“Bullshit, sweetheart. You knew exactly what the hell you were doin’,” he adds, nodding his head slightly to you, the bottle hovering in his hand, signaling you for a refill. He pours a glass for him and Tommy this time, too.

You look at him, mouth slightly agape like you’re waiting for him to finish his side of the story. He turns to face Tommy, one hand resting on the edge of the bartop, his knuckles bleaching under his weight. The other grips the glass in front of him.

“This one used to sit at my bar, let men buy her free drinks, and then she’d work pool into the conversation,” he says, pausing to take a sip. “She’d be all, ‘I’ve never played, maybe you could teach me blah, blah’ batting her pretty little eyes until they’d cave. By the end of the night, she’d have them makin’ bets and melting like putty in her hands.”

You try to hide your embarrassment behind your glass. He’s not wrong. You used to do that. You’re not sure if you did it because you were bored, not like there’s much else to do in this shit town anyway, or because you liked the attention, but whatever the reason you have to admit it was fun.

Besides, most of them deserved it anyway. If losing a few hundred dollars was the biggest price they’d have to pay for flirting with a young college girl while their wives sat at home waiting for them to come home and half satisfy them, well then, you were okay with that. Plus it kept your rent paid.

But that was a long time ago; it’s been ages since you’ve even picked up a pool stick. You just hope that the old idiomatic expression, old habits die hard, rings true for you now.

The alcohol that courses through your veins gives you a sense of confidence to be a bit bold. You prop your elbows on the sticky bartop and gaze up at Joel. “You gonna kick me out then, Joel? Punish me for all of my wrong-doings?” you flirt, testing, teasing. You flint your eyes over your shoulder to look back at Tommy, and can’t help the surge of arousal that you feel when you notice his eyes are already on your backside. You look at Joel and see the clench in his jaw, the furrow in his brow, his pupils blown wide open.

“No, ‘m not gonna kick you out, sweetheart,” he says, filling the glasses once more. Between that and the wine from earlier this afternoon, you’re already feeling quite buzzed, and more than a little reckless. You watch him complete the pours before reaching for your glass.

“But you are gonna have to make it up to me somehow,” he adds. Your pulse doubles and there’s a familiar tug at your navel when you think of what he might mean. Before you have time to respond, he adds “Tell you what, I’ll make you a bet this time. You see Tommy here is a bit of a pool shark himself, and well, baby you already know what I am.” Both of them look at you with dark, hungry eyes. “You beat us, you can have whatever you want,” he adds.

Your skin feels hot, and you suddenly wish you opted for something cooler than a sweater. “And if either of you wins?” you ask.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out,” Joel responds, downing the last of his drink, shooting Tommy a knowing look.

It’s a trap, you know it is.

And yet you agree.

++++

Joel rounds out from behind the bar and leads the way. He walks past the front door and locks it before pulling the plug on the neon open sign that hands in the nearby window. As you three approach the pool table, Tommy picks up a cue stick leaning against the nearby wall – he twirls it in his hands and hands it to you. He picks up another and passes it to Joel, before finally grabbing a third for himself.

“Hope you’re not a sore loser, Darlin’,” Tommy says with a wink.

You playfully roll your eyes. “We’ll see,” you cheekily respond, toying with the end of the cue stick and rubbing chalk on the tip end of it, being a little suggestive with your movements. Both Tommy and Joel notice.

You gather around the table, and Joel sets up the balls. “Alright, break time. You’re up first, sweetheart,” Joel says. You lock eyes with Joel for a moment and fuck, this is gonna be rough. He has you so flustered and you haven’t even started.

You refocus your gaze on the triangular arrangement of balls. You steady your feet and bend over the table, smiling a little when you feel both of them look at your ass. With a swift motion, you strike the cue ball, scattering the rest across the table, sinking a solid and a stripe into two adjacent pockets. Not so bad for being a little rusty, you think.

Joel lets out a low whistle and looks at Tommy. “Shit, brother, we might be in trouble here,” he says. You smile at the compliment, and round around the table so you’re directly in front of Tommy. You look at Joel as you bend over the table, lining yourself up to hit the solid ball with a clear path to the pocket in front of it.

Your ass skirts against the front of Tommy’s crotch and his breath hitches in his throat. As you’re about to take your shot, a large palm ghosts over the curve of your hip, and the sensation causes you to miss the shot. Fuck.

“Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart, you a little distracted?” Tommy coos.

They wanna play dirty. You can play dirty.

Joel’s up next. His broad frame rounds around the table, and his shoulder brushes against you as he does. He finds his best angle and deftly lines the cue stick up, his biceps straining under the cloth of his shirt at the new position. You walk over to the line of his shot and bend over on the opposite end of the table, your tits spilling out of the slit in your shirt, effectively distracting him. He takes his shot and misses.

They wanna play dirty. You can play dirty.

“Ooo, good effort on that one,” you tell Joel, placating him, “better luck next time,” you conclude with a wink. Joel clears his throat and steps back from the table.

Tommy circles the table next, attempting to find an easy shot. “So I’ve been thinking, we should make this game a bit more interesting,” you say. You watch as Tommy bends over and lines up his turn. He pulls the cue stick back, and just as he’s about to knock it against the ball, you finish “For every shot we miss, we have to strip a piece of clothing." The shock of your words causes Tommy to miss his shot.

“Guess that means you’re starting us off,” you tell Tommy. He shoots you a look. His hands find the buckle of his belt and he undoes it, discarding it on a nearby chair.

The three of you play like that until both Joel and Tommy are clad in nothing but their boxers and socks. You, on the other hand, are still mostly clothed, except for your sweater. Your game started rough, but despite their best efforts to distract you, you’re running the table.

With only one ball left on the table, you walk up to where both of them stand side-by-side. You stand there facing both of them, and they allow their eyes to linger on your chest. Tommy is standing with his hands cupped in front of his crotch, in an attempt to hide his growing bulge. Joel, however, is unreadable as ever.

You lock eyes with him as you snake your arms behind your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. You unhook it, your nipples stiffening in response to air. He casts a quick gaze down to your breasts but doesn’t allow them to linger before he looks at you. His jaw is stiff, and he looks at you like you’re something to eat. Keeping your eyes peered into his, you hold the bra out and give it to Tommy. The moment is so charged. So many things being said with no words, all body language discussion.

You take a few steps back before turning around to grab your cue stick that’s resting against the edge of the pool table. You walk over to the other end of the table and line up the final shot of the game. “So I’ve been thinking about what I want as my prize,” you say, bending down far enough that your tits smush against the felt on the table. “And what’s that, sweetheart?” Joel asks. You let out a little hum of satisfaction, dragging the cue stick back. “Want you both to fuck me, right here on this table,” you add, punctuating your statement with your final shot. You watch with bated breath, releasing it when you see the last ball on the table fall into the pocket.

The three of you stand there in silence, waiting for someone to make the first move.

“You heard her, brother,” Tommy says, advancing towards you. “A bet’s a bet.” His hands find your hips from behind, and he pulls your backside against his firm body, dropping his head to nip at your neck. His lips trail up the side of the sensitive skin there and you let out a little purr as his tongue darts out to lick your pulse.

Your lusty gaze watches as Joel closes the gap between your bodies, and he pauses inches from you. He lifts his palm and uses the backside of it, trailing his knuckles down your cheek, over the soft swell of your chest, until his hand opens up and cups your breast.

It’s all dizzying touch, your vision already a little fuzzy from your buzz, and with Joel’s hand on your body in addition to Tommy’s mouth, you’re the one who’s putty in their hands this time. Joel brings your nipple to a stiff peak using his thumb and forefinger, before he lifts them back up to your face. He hooks two fingers under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” Joel says, voice low. You look up at him with doe eyes.

“I know. Now what are you going to do about it?” you taunt.

Tommy stops his affections on your neck and looks up to lock eyes with Joel. He gives a knowing smirk and Tommy reaches his arms around your body and begins to undo the button on your jeans, the zipper following, before he's pulling them down far enough for you to step out of them.

“Oh, sweetheart. We’re going to fucking ruin you. Right here on this table, just like you asked,” Joel says.

“Think you can handle that, hmm? Want both of your daddy’s to stuff that pretty little cunt of yours until you can’t think straight?” And fuck, he’s filthy. His words go straight to your core and you feel slick pooling in your panties, your pussy just begging to be touched.

Before giving you time to respond, his large hand comes down to cup your sex.

“Shit, baby. All this for us?” Joel asks. Your eyes close when you feel Tommy continue his assault on your neck. You’re pinned between both of their bodies, their hard cocks pressing up against you from both angles. It’s already so intense. The want, the sheer desire you feel for both of them is almost overwhelming.

“Use your words, Darlin’, we wanna hear it,” Tommy rasps against your skin.

“Ye–yes, all for you both, want you so bad,” you respond with a moan. A groan reverberates through Joel’s chest, and he gives Tommy the same knowing look they’ve shared all night.

Tommy steps back and comes to stand by Joel’s side. “You’re gonna have to earn it. On your knees, baby,” Joel commands.

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, wooden floor against your bare calves. You position yourself in front of both of them and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for one of them to give you further instructions, practically worshipping at the altar of the two gorgeous men above you. Joel reaches down and brings his pointer finger to lift your chin to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty like this,” he rasps. As he releases you, they both nod and you take that as permission to release both of them from the confines of their fabric prison.

You start with Tommy, dipping your fingers beneath the band of his boxers. Instinctively, your eyes find Joel’s and you glance at him as if to ask for permission again. He nods once more, and you drag them down to the middle of Tommy’s thighs. The cock that springs free is fucking delectable; a perfect width and a sizable length. The tip is prominent and there’s a thick vein bulging along the side of it. He’s well endowed, and thank fuck for that. Your hands reach up to grasp the base of it, and your tongue darts out to lick the bead of pre-cum that’s welled at the tip. It’s salty and delicious, leaving you wanting more, more, more.

You pull your mouth away from Tommy and replace it with your hand, slowly and firmly stroking the length of him, his skin smooth like butter under your palm. He starts to protest when he realizes what your next move is. You use your free hand to release Joel from his fabric confines and moan at the sight of his cock. Of course, they both would be blessed below the belt. As delicious as Tommy’s cock is, his older brother has a bit of a lead on him.

Truthfully, you’re not surprised in the slightest. Joel’s cock is well above average in length, but the main attraction is the thickness. Just from the looks of it, your fingers probably wouldn’t meet if you wrapped your fingers around him. His girthiness intimidates you, but you don’t scare easily. You were hungry before, but now you’re positively ravenous. You kitten lick Joel’s tip then fully suck on it, eliciting a throaty groan from him. You smile around it, pleased at yourself for being able to affect him like that.

You want to please the pair of dangerously handsome brothers, but you’re aching for praise from Joel.

“Lay back, baby,” Tommy commands, guiding your hips up to rest against the grain of the pool table. And you do, the texture of the felt rubbing against your back in a soft embrace. Both of their hands find your chest with flat palms, and they drag them down over the expanse of your breasts and stomach. They pause, both of them face-to-face with your cunt. ‘Go ‘head brother, all yours,” Joel says to Tommy.

And shit, the hot mouth that greets your wet core is inviting in more ways than one. His lips lock around your waiting clit and you moan in response to the sensation. As Tommy sucks at your center, his tongue making perfect rotations on your clit, you can’t help but let go.

“Shit, that’s so good – need more,” you beg, and Joel can tell the ask you’re making is for him. He slips his middle finger into your pussy, and your wall clenches around him. The pressure that Tommy applies to your clit is so good, you could probably come just from him, but the added drag of Joel’s finger sawing in and out of you reminds you that you want more, need more, need him.

“Joel, yes – fuck, yes, please don’t stop,” you beg. Tommy continues tracing patterns over your clit and Joel adds a second, then a third finger, which you greedily accept. “More!” you beg, and Joel obliges, slipping a fourth finger into you. “Such a tight fucking cunt, not sure how I could fit another, but happy to stretch you out baby, gotta get you ready f'us,” Joel says. Tommy purrs as he laps up your release, and Joel groans, wishing he was the one at your chef’s table, sampling all of your flavors.

With the way both of them work at you, you feel like a helpless fish, caught on their hook. They dropped the bait and you were quick to bite, now having to pay the price for your decision. The both of them reel in their line, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. They drag you to the water line of your orgasm, and you give up any hope of staying below the shoreline.

Your release washes over you like a wake from a boat, an inevitable. You let the waters fall from your shore before you open your eyes and see both of them, their hard cocks staring you in the eyes. Giving you a moment to come up for air, Joel gently strokes your cheek, an act of tenderness amongst the debauchery taking place.

Tommy gives Joel a knowing look and lifts his right leg to help hoist him onto the pool table. With you spread out underneath both of them, he positions himself right above your head. You all but drool at the sight of him stroking his cock from this vantage point, Tommy looking down at you as if he were seeing his reflection in a pond for the first time. His jaw hangs slack as he works himself from base to tip.

Meanwhile, Joel’s hands find your hips and he deftly tugs you down, so your waiting pussy is just barely hanging over the edge of the pool table. He puts your legs over his brawny forearms, bearing the weight of your lower half, and spreads your legs wide, fully exposing your glistening cunt to him.

You’re almost shivering with how badly you want his cock inside you. He grabs the base of it in one hand, the tip of him barely ghosting against your wet and dripping seam. He collects some of your arousal on him, before using his thumb to drag it over the length of his member.

He knows he could fuck you just like this, lord knows you’re wet enough, and he's done his due diligence to stretch you, but he knows he’s a lot to take. He leans his head down and spits, his saliva falls onto the tip of him, partially covering himself and your clit. He taps the mushroom head of his cock on your clit a few times, a thin string of saliva connecting both of your bodies as he pulls it back.

As much as you would love to focus on Tommy’s length in your face, your sole attention is on Joel, who’s about to fill you to the hilt. “Mouth wide open, baby,” Tommy begs above you, calling you back to his attention. You feign your hardest to listen. You open your jaw wide, and he places the tip of his cock on the tip of your tongue, dragging the heaviness of it over the expanse of it.

Just as he slides in deeper into your wet and waiting mouth, Joel bunts his hips forward, pressing half of him into your tight hole. It’s so much, and they’re both not even halfway in yet.

They lock eyes with each other and synchronize their thrusts. Joel pulls back and thrusts into your cunt, and Tommy pulls back momentarily before your mouth welcomes him deeper into your throat, so deep in fact that the tip of him bumps up against the back of it, nearly causing you to gag. The corners of your eyes prick with tears, and whether it’s from the stretch of Joel’s cock, or the head of Tommy’s knocking on the back door of your throat, you’ll never know.

“Shit, brother. She’s taking this cock so well, Jesus fuck,” Tommy mutters, thrusting his member in and out of you with a relentless pace, his hands now tangled in your hair like a bird's nest in a tree.

“God damn, you’re telling me. Little cunt is taking me so well,” and his words cause you to clench harder around him.

“Gotta ease up baby, or both of your daddy’s are gonna fill you sooner than we both want to,” Tommy rasps behind a breathless voice, “so good, so fucking good, my god.” You revel in their doubled praise and you can’t help but clench tighter, and Joel notices.

“Ah fuck, brother. I think that’s what she wants. Little slut wants us to pump her full of our cum,” Joel rasps, continuing his relentless pace, dragging his cock in and out of you. You moan in response, your words muffled around the expanse of Tommy, “Fuck, want you to fill me up so bad, both of you.”

“You hear that,” Tommy says in a breathless voice. “You heard her, give the girl what she wants,” Tommy encourages Joel. And fuck. These two are going to be the death of you.

“That what you want, sweetheart? Want Daddy Joel and Daddy Tommy to pump you full of all of our seed, want us to leave you dripping with both of us,” Joel says, his pace quickening, his grip on your hips strong enough to bruise. “Yes, fuck, fill me up, want every last drop of both of my daddy’s cum.”

Joel looks up at Tommy.

“Wouldn’t that be quite the fucking sight? Her all round from your baby, her pretty tits engorged with milk, me fucking dribbling out of her mouth," Tommy says.

"Such a dirty little slut, so good for us,” Tommy praises. Had anyone else uttered those words your skin would crawl, but it’s different coming from the pair of them. You’d let them spread you open wide and fuck you full of their come any day.

“Fuck, I think she likes the thought of that, I can feel her clamping down on me, gripping me so goddamn tight, brother,” Joel rasps. Your lips tighten around Tommy, and they both continue to use you, fucking you like they want, like how you know you need. They abuse both of your holes in their relentless chase for their own orgasm.

“Shit brother, ‘m close, not gonna last much longer,” Tommy groans, and you can tell. His cock stiffens and his pulses become more and more erratic.

“Not yet, need her to come again for us first,” Joel demands, dropping his thumb to your clit, beginning to drag slow and near-perfect circles over your sensitive bud.

“Need you to give us one more. C’mon, you can do it,” Joel continues to egg you on. “You’re so pretty when you come, give us one more, baby. Our perfect girl, let us feel it.”

With that, your whole body convulses and your vision goes white. You can’t help the shakes that follow, your entire body trembling like an earthquake. “Fuckfuckfuck, yesssss,” you cry out, your release taking over you like watercolor paint spilling onto paper, blurring the lines your pleasure has always been confined to – until now.

Joel and Tommy continue their movements, slowing as they reach their own peaks. “So close, baby, gonna come down this pretty fucking throat, gonna be a good girl and swallow your daddy’s thick load,” Tommy grunts out before he stills and shoots his spend down your throat. It’s so much, some dribbles out the corners of your mouth and down your chin.

Joel watches as you greedily swallow his brother's load. “Such a good girl. You gonna tell your pretty little cunt to swallow all of me too, hmm? Gonna flood that little pussy with my load, fill you so full,” he raps. “Gonna plug you so good after ‘m done, not drop is gonna go to waste, baby.”

You gulp, swallowing the rest of Tommy’s spend before answering, “Yes, Joel, p-please fill me up with your come, daddy,” you squawk out, voice hoarse from Tommy’s crusade on your mouth.

“As you wish, pretty girl,” Joel teases, as if he wasn’t the one to come up with the idea.

He thrusts once, twice and he’s filling you with his cum, just as he promised. He stills inside of you, and his forehead comes to rest on your chest. The sticky sweat on his skin makes it tacky, clinging to you in a way that parallels how you’re clinging to this moment. Both of your chests are heaving, ragged breaths coming out almost in sync.

After a few long moments, Joel reluctantly lifts his head up and slowly pulls out, but before any of his load drips out he uses a finger to plug your hole. You gasp and your body jolts from the oversensitivity. “Makin’ sure it sticks, darlin’,” Joel coos in your ear and gently moves the stray strands of hair from your face.

Thoroughly fucked out, you ask the pair of them, “So just out of curiosity, what would you have asked for if either of you had won?”

They both look at each other as if to decide if they want to tell you the truth or not.

“Come back next year for a rematch and we’ll tell you,” Tommy says.

With the way both of them look at you, how could you not?

It’s not even January and yet, here you are – excited for Easter.

What a fucking plot twist that is.

END

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @sydneyinacoma @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @brittmb115 @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @morallyinept @tobesolovelysstuff @notsosecretspy @alokaerza @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @morgaussy @missladym1981 @pedrostories

As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). I'll still be using my tag list for now, but I just started a notifs blog, so will be transitioning to that eventually. Please follow @katiexpunkupdates to get notified when I post fics.xx

Happy New Year!

#joel and tommy #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #threes0me #joel miller x female reader #tommy miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #tommy miller fanfic #pedrohub #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #tlou fanfiction

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patrophthia · 10 months

Text

take you to the basics | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott × hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff, (kinda) established relationships, theo is whipped, even more fluff, everyone are friends, everyone is an idiot, self indulgent, 7th year (after war), theres ginny here too, not beta read, awkward theo bc it’s cute, theo is basically just tall, and not buff ver of jeon wonwoo from svt

word count: 3.9k

is a sequel to love is sour grapes but can be read as a one shot as well!

With as much care as he could muster in his tone, he asks. "Will you give me the honour in courting you?" And then, as if he was realising he's supposed to take things slow -even though his intention was, and will always be, courting me- he corrects himself. "Will you give me the honour of being my girlfriend?"

What a way with words he has. I'd like to think it has something to do with the romance books he'd been reading just so he could have something to talk to me about all these months.

"Do you want to be my boyfriend?" I counter after a beat.

Theodore stayed quiet for the briefest second before: "yes."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"You're my boyfriend."

"Oh." There's a second of silence where neither of us spoke before my face breaks out into a smile, one that he doesn't bother to hold himself back from reciprocating it. "Okay."

Why was life so complicated? Okay, maybe not so much life —why was dating Theodore so complicated? That is if the two of us were even a thing. It was okay at first, now it's just plain out exhausting.

I like him and he knows it. And he likes me, and I know it. So why was things so complicated? We've kissed before, multiple times actually. We've gone on dates where we spent a majority of the time talking about the books we read —although it's more like me talking and him listening with that stone cold face of his, but that was just who he was and I would never change it about him.

What I do want to change though is whatever is going on between us. I've already embarrassed myself in front of him once and I would rather die than do it again. So what should I do in this situation? Talk to my friends apparently.

"I don't get it," says Hermione with a frustrated tone. "You both like each other and he acts like your boyfriend." I nod slowly and she continues. "But he isn't actually your boyfriend."

I nod again. "Yup."

"He didn't ask?" Ginny asks, now having joined our little friend group. Ron and Harry listen reluctantly, not enjoying the girl talk all too much.

"You have to ask?" Ron asks suddenly, obviously clueless. And when Hermione, and Ginny shoot him a look. He turns to his plate, mumbling. "I thought you'd be boyfriends and girlfriends after the third date."

"That's normally how it goes," I said. "After the third date the two of you are technically a thing but it isn't official until one or the other asks to make it official."

"Why don't you ask him?" Harry says suddenly, immediately regretting it when all our attention was fixed on him. "I mean maybe, he —like Ron and I— don't know about these things so he just assumes—"

"That's not excusable," Hermione cuts him off. "He's friends with a girl, Parkinson, so I'm sure she's filled him on this stuff."

"But what if she didn't?" I ask. Okay maybe I had a soft spot for Theo and is trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. And in my defence, I liked him, like a lot, and when you fancy someone, like really fancy them, the red flags tend to look like a dark shade of pink and I'd like to think that pink was a pretty colour.

Plus —and this isn't just an excuse, if I really thought about it, I don't think I've ever seen Theodore go out with anyone before he went out with me. So if he was a rookie at this dating thing, maybe I should be the one leading this relationship.

"Okay then go ask him," Hermione says pettily, she wants me to be happy, she really does, but she can't find it in herself to support me dating someone who can't make it clear what his intentions with me were. "Ask him 'what are we?' Or 'why did you tell me to not smile at other people?' I can't let you be with someone who doesn't know their place with you."

"And what makes you think he doesn't," Ron chimes in between a bite of his snack, when did he get one, I didn't seem to notice.

"You see her?" Hermione asks, she then says my name in the same questioning tone. "She wouldn't be talking to us about this if he did."

"Wait, aren't you supposed to be on a date with him right now?" Ginny says suddenly. "Why are you here?"

"He had last minute plans with Malfoy," I say, and I know, even without looking at her, that Hermione was disappointed with me. "And it wasn't a date."

"Yeah, just two people who fancy each other hanging out," Ron snickered, now being on Mione's side of disapproving of Theo.

"Did he tell you what he was doing with Malfoy?" Harry asks, curious as to what the Slytherins might be up to.

"I don't know," I told him. "I'm already stressing about this whole situation with him that I just accepted and went to find you four. I think I'm just going to take off my makeup, spend the day with you, then try to sleep good tonight."

I then added. "Unless you had plans that didn't include me in it?"

The four shook their heads. "We were just going to go watch Harry and Ginny practice." Hermione says.

"Great," I mumbled, standing up. "I'll come with."

"Wait," Ginny calls out, and I pause in my step, turning to where her voice came from. "I'll be quick."

She points at her shoe and it's then that I notice that it's been untied. Ron, Hermione, and Harry, who seemed to have not heard her, continued their way towards the quidditch pitch. I waited by her side, offering her a hand when she had to get back up.

"You know," she says lowly, "I heard that you're the only person Nott didn't reject, apparently he's pretty popular with the girls."

I shook my head. "That's not true," I say with a slight frown. "When I first asked him out, he just stared at me."

"Which technically isn't a rejection," Ginny smiles sweetly. "More like you rendering him speechless."

That was exactly what Theo told me after my first date with him. "I guess."

"Bloody hell, will you two please speed it up?" Ron shouts at the front of the quidditch pitch, only now realising that we're far behind them.

I felt half the urge to walk even slower, and from the small grin Ginny wore from the corner of my eyes, I'm pretty sure she was thinking the same thing. But Harry and Hermione were also waiting with him, and it was only a matter of time before they started bickering about it as well. So we sped up with our steps.

But just before we reach the pitch, Ginny stops me, yelling for them to go ahead without us. "You want to know a secret?" she asks, I nod. "Since I was Harry's first real girlfriend I had to be the one to ask him to be my boyfriend."

"Are you saying I should be the one to ask?" I murmur. I don't think I would mind doing so, but there was something more romantic about having your date ask you to be your boyfriend.

"No," she says kindly. "Just saying you should nudge him in the right direction."

"So guide him?"

"Yep."

Okay. That is surely something I can do. Now, for me to draw up a plan on how to do it. If I've managed to help take down a dark wizard then surely I can get Theo to ask me to be his girlfriend.

Both Ginny and I step into the quidditch pitch. Slightly taken aback to see more than six players in the field (with Ginny being the missing member), it didn't take us long to register why though.

Neither did it take me long to notice Theo, standing right behind Malfoy as he bickered with Harry. What was happening? And did Theo really ditch our (not) date just to watch his friend's quidditch practice?

"Badger," Blaise says suddenly, drawing everyone's attention to Ginny and I by the entrance. "I see you look pretty as always."

Theodore doesn't even bother to subtly smack his friend in the back of his head. It doesn't affect Blaise though, only finding it amusing to witness.

"What's going on?" Ginny asks.

"We booked this pitch," Malfoy says before Harry could get a word in. "And now you're trying to take it from us."

"No, we booked the pitch." Harry says sternly. "You're the one trying to take it away from us."

Despite Gryffindor and Slytherin (somewhat) friendship after the war ended —and the fact that our friend groups were now mixed because of whatever Theodore and I have going on. They were still competitive people. And they want more than anything to win this year's cup.

"I have an idea," I say, quite honestly done with their stupid rivalry. "How about you practise together?" I say off-handedly, knowing full well that they'd agree to come for my throat. "Just an idea."

"And have they found out about our strategies?" Malfoy scoffs. "I thought you were smarter than this."

Considering that I did better in classes then him, and that Ron agreed with his words. I technically am smarter than him. "Well if you're so sure about your strategies working then it wouldn't hurt if you gave up the pitch for just one practice right?"

Draco was on the brink of agreeing when it hit him, blinking at me. "Oh you're good," he murmurs. "Fine, have the pitch for all I care."

I was more than sure that he was only giving it for my benefits. Sure that if it had been someone else who had said it, he'd only double down and insist that he'd reserved the pitch (he didn't, not a single Slytherin booked the pitch for today). But it seemed as though he had a soft spot for me.

The theory of Slytherins having soft spots for Hufflepuffs gets proven right once more. And I'm more than glad to know that I was the beneficiary of this theory.

Blaise was the first to leave, waving at me as he went as the other Slytherins followed after him, the players grumbling under their breath with their brooms in hand. Theo was the last to leave, lingering just so he could pull me to the side.

A hand on my left arm leads me to a quieter corner of the pitch, just below the benches as the players start to get ready for practice. I don't look him in the eye when I ask him, "what?"

The hostility in my tone wasn't missed by Theo and if I didn't know him the way I did, I would've missed the flash of hurt in his eyes. "What do you want, Nott?"

And Theodore feels as if I was stomping on his heart. He hasn't been called Nott since the two of us started going out. "Are you mad at me?"

My brows furrow. "What do you think?"

"Did I do something wrong?" He follows up, his tone doesn't show it —neither does his face, but he was worried, scared, and quite honestly pissed with himself. "Is it because I cancelled on you? Doll, you said you were okay with it."

"No," I shook my head. Confrontation wasn't something I was fond of, nor was I good at it. So I'll settle with just being upset for now. "I'm not mad at you."

Theodore blinks, seemingly getting whiplash from my words. First I ask him what he thinks, in a —if he wasn't wrong— passive aggressive tone, and now I'm telling him that I'm not mad at him? What.

But he decides to take my words as is, trusting that I'd tell him how I feel despite him not telling me that he honestly feels like he'd fucked him over; ruining his only chance at love —oh, and that he doesn't even know what he did. "I'll see you at dinner?"

"No," I say with a slight shake of my head. "I think I'll have dinner with my friends tonight." Theodore fails to mention that Blaise, Draco, and Pansy were also my friends by now. "Next time?"

Theo nods, agreeing. "Next time."

It has been three weeks and 'next time' has yet to come. He's starting to realise it now: realising that I was actually mad at him when I said I wasn't and it'd be a lie if he said it didn't hurt him. He has somehow made me mad and he wishes more than anything that he was dead —because, quite honestly, he can't stand living if I was mad at him.

He needs to recruit help, he decided. And who better to help him with relationship problems than his friends (who he thinks has more experience with relationships than he does) and my friend (whom he knows has more experience in relationships then he does —take Granger and Weasley for example, the two have been together since fourth year).

"So you think she's mad at you and you don't know why?" Weasley comes to the conclusion after Blaise, who he'd already told the whole story to, summed it up for them. "You seriously don't?"

Theodore nods slowly, there was a slight shift in his stone cold expression, barely catchable by the eye but it was there. And it was that slight shift that reassured Hermione that Theo did actually have good intentions when it came to her friend; he was just clueless on what to do.

"She's upset with you because you said you were busy and left her to watch your friends practice," Ginny offers, it was clear that she was also mad on my behalf.

"That's it?" Malfoy mumbles questioningly. "Something as mundane as that is what we're meeting here for?"

"It might be mundane to you but it's not mundane to her," Harry jumps to my defence. "She's not you, Malfoy."

"Okay, so she's mad at Theo because he ditched her for us?" Blaise asks, trying to get them back on track.

"Don't say it like that," Ginny scoffs. "Phrasing it that way makes her seem selfish, which she's not. She just wants to know where she is with Theo and for him to at least try to prioritise her."

"I do prioritise her," Theo says dumbfounded-ly. He really did, he's spent the last however many months of his life reading cheesy books just to annotate them in hopes that I'd love them, he'd even picked up on cooking just so when (or really, if) we ended live together I'd always have a nice home cooked meal waiting for me. "She said she was okay with it."

"She said she was okay with it thinking that it was something important," Pansy explains, understanding exactly how I feel. She's been placed in the same position before, by no one other than Draco himself. "Thinking that Blaise had a heart attack or something, not a stupid quidditch practice."

"Careful," Draco warns. "You were also at the practice."

Pansy rolls her eyes. "Bite me."

"What do I do then?" Theo asks after a while, picking the topic back up.

And the Gryffindor's try their best to remain normal, never —in the last seven years they'd spent studying in the same castle as him— had they heard him spoken for such a long period of time.

"Well let's take you to the basics," Hermione says. "Where are the two of you right now? In terms of relationship that is."

"We're dating?" He answers slowly.

"No you're not," Ron says loudly. "You haven't asked to be her boyfriend yet."

Draco, clearly befuddled, says. "You have to ask?"

Pansy nods. "Of course," she says. "I thought you knew?" And then, after a beat, she adds. "Maybe that's why we didn't work out."

Draco rolls his eyes, mumbling something along the line of his fathers as he does so. "So what should he do then?"

"Apologise for what he did then make it clear what the two of you are." Harry explains, he's done this before, he did it when he first went out with Ginny —so really, he's speaking from experience. "From then on you take things slow so you can work out the kinks of your relationships.

Okay, he thinks he gets it. He has to apologise, make things clear, then take things slow. Surely he can do it.

Now for him to actually do it.

STEP ONE: apologise

Which is, more often than not, easier said than done. Theodore has half the heart to buy something nice in order of winning me over but he knew me better. And he knew that I wasn't with him for his money. So he ought to do better. And he thinks he knows how to do it.

To apologise he should do something heartfelt, which was why he'd found himself learning to plant my favourite flower. He'd rather die than apologise to the one person he cherished more than anything empty handed.

He sees the few cuts on his hand from his attempt at gardening and he hopes that I don't notice it. He doesn't want me to notice his imperfections when I was (to him) perfect in every sense. He likes me every time he sees me, I was exactly his type and he hopes I know it.

He doesn't want to mess this up. He doesn't want to mess us up. And he's really trying his best not to.

With our shoes almost touching, Theo stood tall from my seat on Hogwarts many benches with a planted pot in hand. "I'm sorry," he says first and I mask my surprise at his words. "I won't do it again."

He doesn't bother beating around the bush, with a gift in hand, safe to say I'm impressed. If not a little bit amused by how frustrated he looks.

"Why?" I ask, a hand reaching for the plant and Theodore hesitatingly hands it over, his own fingers brushing against my own. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I ditched you for—"

"Sweetheart, I told you that it was fine."

Theodore's pretty sure his brain is short circuiting. He's heard every variation of his name by now. All of which he can recall from the top of his head. Theodore, Theo, Nott, even Teddy from that ex-girlfriend he had back in kindergarten. But sweetheart is different.

And he thinks he likes it. He thinks he likes it when he's called sweetheart. He thinks he likes it because he likes me. And I was the one calling him sweetheart.

"But your friends—" he pauses, correcting himself "—our friends said that you were upset."

Relationships are built on communication, and I know that it was hard for Theodore to do so. So I won't make it harder for him and lay it all out. "I was upset, yes. But I also said that it was okay for you to spend time with your friends."

And after a second, I added. "And it's not like I'm your girlfriend or anything."

Theodore frowns, taking a seat on the bench besides me.

STEP TWO: make things clear

His chest feels heavy at my words. He doesn't like knowing that I think I wasn't his girlfriend. Because, if I really wasn't, was it normal for him to like me as much as he did?

He has to say something.

"But you are, aren't you?" He asks, brows furrowed.

His heart is leaning, waiting and waiting for an answer. His eyes flutters shut, and he doesn't know it. Wishing and wishing that I would say something.

"Theo." My voice comes out softer than I intended for it to be. "Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

His heart is speeding up. And he thinks that there should be a guide book on how to be in a relationship with pretty girls. But he guesses that he's being guided by one right now.

THE BASICS ON HOW TO DATE PRETTY GIRLS (FOR ROOKIES) by Theodore's and I friends.

His words get caught in his throat. Isn't it so incredibly obvious? He wants to say. Isn't it so incredibly obvious that I've bewitched him? He doesn't say it, but he does nod. And he hopes his nod conveys just how much he wants to be mine.

"Okay," I said first. "I'll be your girlfriend." But of course, things can't always be that easy. "If you ask me properly."

STEP THREE: take things slow

He blinks at me slowly. As if he's only just learning how to properly function; a shift in his eyes caught my attention though, knowing that he's finally processing my words.

He doesn't know why he's scared, he knows that I like him just as much as he likes me but he's nervous about it all. Forgive him for being new to this dating thing.

With as much care as he could muster in his tone, he asks. "Will you give me the honour in courting you?" And then, as if he was realising he's supposed to take things slow —even though his intention was, and will always be, courting me— he corrects himself. "Will you give me the honour of being my girlfriend?"

What a way with words he has. I'd like to think it has something to do with the romance books he'd been reading just so he could have something to talk to me about all these months.

"Do you want to be my boyfriend?" I counter after a beat.

Theodore stayed quiet for the briefest second before: "yes."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"You're my boyfriend."

"Oh." There's a second of silence where neither of us spoke before my face breaks out into a smile, one that he doesn't bother to hold himself back from reciprocating it. "Okay."

"Okay." I nod. "So what should we do first boyfriend?"

Theodore mulls everything over before he turns to me, his hair falling into his eyes. "What do you want to do girlfriend?"

I can't tell whether his hand reaches for mine, or mine his, but I knew that our hands found one another. "Go on a Date."

Theodore lifts our intertwined hand up, placing a careful kiss on my hand as he nods. "Let's go on a date."

STEP FOUR (UNOFFICIAL): kiss, go on dates, be happy!

note: if this guide works, please take the authors (Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron and Ginny weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy) out to dinner, all expenses paid by guide user (Theodore Nott).

— from bee: i lost the initial draft for this which was a lot longer and had to restart all over 😵‍💫😵‍💫 this wasn’t what i had planned for it to be like but it’s cute and im happy with it anyways!!

some other songs i used for inspo for this fic:

say something - twice

rookie - red velvet

+ bonus scene: The table goes silent as Theodore picks up the check, waiting with bated breath on how much it came out to be.

And despite knowing that all the Slytherins + Harry would be able to handle the bill without making a dent in their vault, they're still all anxious to know the price.

Theodore pulls out his card, sleek, black, and hands it over to the waiter. Once the waiter left, he turns to us. "I'll buy you dessert if you can guess it."

The group starts blurting out numbers, startling the other customers but they couldn't seem to care less. Beneath the table, with his finger tracing the skin of my thigh. Theodore writes the price, and inching a bit lower, he adds; "make me proud, sweetheart."

Safe to say the group wasn't all too happy to know that I was the only one who not only guessed right, but was right number by number. Draco would later on whine about this, something along the lines of: "Girlfriend privileges."

#theodore nott x you #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader #theodore nott humor #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott fanfiction #theo nott fanfic #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #🧳: my writing

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headspace-hotel · 3 months

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source

joe biden makes me want to throw up but the USA's actions under his admin have much less to do with him personally and more to do with the entire putrefying mass of USA policy and its entire history and the situation of a compromise-based government system half dominated by the most rabid, hateful fascists imaginable.

every day I see a hundred posts on here saying "look at how bad Biden is, the two sides are the same and he is no better than a republican would be" and the revulsion in my heart at my country's actions agrees, yet the Republicans are frothing over Biden being marginally less bloodthirsty and furiously demanding far more violence and repression.

Honest to God I don't even know what to do with this. I'm not telling y'all, because I don't know. This country is a suicide bomb and the whole globe is strapped to it.

Like, on a lot of policies, it seems like both parties are further right than the majority of Americans. I don't think I even know anyone IRL who is pro- helping Israel bomb Palestine, and a lot of these people would probably consider themselves "moderate conservatives" or "centrists." The government makes no pretense of representing us at all.

It's the exact same with the climate; majorities in EVERY state, even red states, support taking action to mitigate climate change, and even the moderate liberal folks support policies more radical than anything the government manages to do. Republicans are attacking the Endangered Species Act, one of the most popular laws Congress ever passed! How do we even BEGIN to get out of this mess?

I looked up this Tom Cotton's Facebook and it is just as the article says and worse

I can't even begin to describe how monstrously Fox News has just straight up lied about the genocide in Palestine, calling any and all protests in support of Palestinians "Pro-Hamas." And there is a substantial minority of Americans whose whole grasp of the world is framed by Fox News, which turns their brains into a disgusting slurry like a racist plasmodial slime mold whose primitive network of neuron-like impulses responds to no other stimuli apart from fear and paranoia

When Ron Desantis was still running for presidential nomination one of his campaign promises was that we would stop sending humanitarian aid to Gaza and that we would not allow Gazan refugees into the country. It was on his Instagram back in November. How would Gazan refugees make it all the way over here??? Like sure we should take them if they wanna come but I think they just want their home back! That fucker had to INVENT a hypothetical opportunity for a compassionate act so he could demonstrate that he would choose the cruel option. He was widely despised, but still, it's terrifying.

And before you say "violently overthrow the government," the small percentage of Americans who are straight up openly Neo-Nazis own a LARGE percentage of the guns, and they love to organize into stupid little militias about it. You bet cops and ex-military overlap with this category a lot. A "leftist revolution" is a wet dream for these guys.

I know, I know, it's not unsolvable, I know the hateful folks are in the minority, I know a future is possible, I know violence and oppression cannot continue forever, but AAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGHHHHHH

#vent #usa politics #AUGHHHHHHHH #I HATE IT HERE!#pain #rant #political

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suugarbabe · 9 months

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Saint-Like

Here we are my darlings, the long awaited George one shot based off of this ask.

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Word Count: 3k (told ya it'd be a bit long)

Warning: mention of blood, angst, kissing

Professor Moody stalked about the living room giving a speech that did not make anyone feel any less uneasy about what was about to transpire. “Potter, you’re underage, which means you still have the trace on you.” Harry looked up confused, “What’s the trace?” Moody placed both hands on his walking stick for support, “It means that if ya sneeze the ministry is goin’ to know who wiped yer nose. The point is we have to use those means of transport that the trace can’t detect, brooms, thestrals, the like. We go in pairs. That way if there’s anyone out there waiting for us, and I reckon there will be, they won’t know which Harry Potter is the real one.”

Harry looked confused, “The real one?” Moody’s face turned up slightly, a grin forming as he grabbed his infamous flask from his jacket pocket. He stirred the flask with a swirl of his wrist, “I believe you’re familiar with this particular brew.” Harry immediately shook his head, “No, absolutely not.” Hermione rolled her eyes behind him, “Told you he’d take it well.” Harry continued, voice strained, “No, if you think I’m gonna let everyone risk their lives for me-” Ron cut him off abruptly with a sarcastic tone, “Never done that ‘ave we?” Harry turned to face his friend, “No! No, this is different! Taking that, becoming me? No.”

“Well none of us really fancy it, mate,” Fred piped up, smug grin across his face. “Yeah imagine something went wrong and we end up a screwy, specky git forever,” George teased, smiling alongside his twin. “Everyone is of age here, Potter,” Moody spoke up again, “They’ve all agreed to take the risk.” A short man in the back spoke up just then, “Technically, I’ve been coerced.” He turned to Harry, “Mundungus Fletcher, Mista Potta, always been a ‘uge admirer.”

“Nip it, Mundungus!” Moody scolded. The small man’s head went down, turning back to his spot in the back of the room and staying quiet. “Alright, Granger, as discussed,” Moody nodded toward the witch. Hermione walked past Harry, gripping a patch of hair at the back of his head and pulling harshly, pulling out several hairs. “Blimey, Hermione,” Harry rubbed the back of his head. Moody instructed Hermione to drop the hairs in the polyjuice potion in his flask. The potion began to bubble as Moody stirred it around with another twirl of his wrist.

“For those of you who are not familiar with the polyjuice potion, fair warning, taste like goblin piss,” Moody stated comfortingly as he handed the flask to Fred. Fred took the flask from him, “Have lots of experiences with that, do ya Mad-Eye?” Moody continued to stare at Fred, face blank and unchanging. Fred let out a sigh, “Just trying to diffuse the tension…” Those in the line all took a large swig, first Fred, then George, followed by Mundungus, Fluer, Ron and lastly Hermione. You stood next to Hermione and watched in amazement as the row of people all slowly started changing, skin bubbling to transform into Harry.

You watched your George shrink several inches and he transformed. His clothes became far too large for his frame. “Is this how you feel when you borrow a shirt from me, love?” he looked over at you, a smile on his - well Harry’s - face. You shook your head, cheeks becoming a shade darker than before, “You know it’s really hard to take you seriously when you look like that.” He shrugged as he started to get dressed in the same exact attire as Harry. The goal was simple, pairs would travel with a Harry look-a-like towards the Burrow. Mad-Eye said he anticipated an attack by death eaters and that the risk was high. You and George agreed to be involved immediately, no questions asked.

Once everyone was changed you all filed outside, you grabbed your broom. You hopped on, George floating next to you on a copy of Harry’s broom. Moody stood at the end of the drive, announcing it was time to leave. You both took off together, staying close by one another. As you got deeper into the clouds, it looked like a lightning storm. Moody went further ahead of the others. In an instant you were seemingly surrounded by black cloaks swishing by spells being thrown on either side of you. You turned to find George, you had to assume he was still the Harry closest to you.

You knew you were close to the Burrow. You looked over to check on George once more just in time to see a death eater point their want towards him. You panicked, not knowing the spell they would speak and instantly flicked your wand toward George, “Depulso!” George’s body slid farther away from you, narrowly missing the spell, or at least almost. You noticed his body go slightly limp, his broom altitude dropping quickly. You dove after him, grabbing him in your arms and speeding toward the barrier around the burrow.

As soon as you were through the barrier you headed to land, nearly crashing into the cornfields. He still looked like Harry as you fervently started checking his body for damage, “C’mon Georgie, wake up. You’re okay, right? You’re okay.” His head was bleeding, you turned it to the side, noticing his left ear nearly missing, “Oh, Georgie.” He turned his head back and forth, mumbling something. You put your ear next to his mouth and he mumbled again, “Y/n/n, yer…kneeling on my hand.” You jumped up, and he attempted to roll over to his side. Thankfully he was still mostly Harry, you threw one of his arms over your shoulder, your arm around his waist, doing your best to take hold of most of the weight.

You stumbled out of the cornfields, seeing a few of the others that made it before you two. Harry, the real Harry, was quick to come to the other side of George, helping you take him inside the Burrow. Molly turned from the sink as soon as she heard commotion, eyes glued on the now changing boy back into George. “Oh my boy,” Molly rushed over as you and Harry laid George on the family sofa. Remus walked in with another Harry that slowly turned into their normal self, challenging each one making sure they weren’t an imposter.

You ignored the background noise, focusing solely on the red head in front of you. You got a washing cloth from the kitchen, dowsing it in cool water to begin to clean his wound. As you approached the sofa again Molly snatched the rag from your hands, a glare upon her face as she pushed in front of you to tend to her son. Fred entered the Burrow, rushing to his twin’s side. It was silent for a long moment before Fred spoke, “How’re you feelin’ Georgie?” George’s eyes were still closed, taking slow deep breaths as he responded, “Saint-like.”

Fred shook his head, “Come again?” George smiled softly, “Saint-like. I’m holy. I’m holy, Fred. Ya get it?” He then pointed to his ear. Fred just shook his head again, smiling, “The whole wide world of ear related humor, and you go for ‘I’m holy’. It’s pathetic.” George winked at you before responding to his twin once more, “Reckon I’m still better looking than you.” You laughed softly at his ability to ease a room in even the most stressful of times. Molly turned at the sound of your laughter, glaring at you once more. You could understand her feeling protective, but you were unsure why she was taking her anger out at you.

You attempted once more to get closer to George now that he was talking to others more, but Molly was quick to step in front of you. “I think you’ve done enough for tonight dear,” Her voice was low but stern. You were sure confusion was written across your features, “What do you mean, Molly?” She gestured toward the other room, “Maybe it would be best if you kept your distance for the night.” Her face told you not to argue with her. While she was usually the soft and comforting one, she could instill fear when needed.

You took the hint and went into the other room, pacing back and forth. You kept playing with the rings on your fingers, one in particular George had gifted you last Christmas. You wished you could talk to him, it pained you being pushed away like this. Pained you so deeply you swear you could feel it on your side. Your right side. You placed your hand onto your torso, wincing as you touched just below your rib cage. You lifted your shirt slowly, peering down to see a deep gash. “Bloody hell, that’s not good,” with the realization of your wound you felt more light headed. You assumed the lack of adrenaline also played a part in this. You turned back towards the main living area, intentions of calling out for someone when everything started to fade around you.

—------------

George moved to sit up, laughing slightly at the several members of his family fawning over him. He looked around searching for the face of the one person who’s voice he hadn’t heard since he landed at the burrow. “Where’s Y/n?” George went to stand up, albeit a little shaky. “She’s just in the other room, I asked her to give you some space,” Molly rubbed his arm in comfort. He started walking towards the room, “Why would you do that mum?” He walked a little quicker towards the next room. He turned the corner to see you laying facedown on the floor.

George rushed over, shouting for someone, anyone to come and help him. He turned you over, noticing how slow and shallow your breathing had become. He did the same inspection you had done just an hour prior, checking your face, your neck, down your arms. He ran his hands down your sides, your body involuntarily twitching as he reached your wound. He lifted your shirt as Remus and his father came to kneel next to him. George gasped as he saw the deep gash on your side, the edges burned black clearly from a dark spell. “What do I- how do we fix her dad, you have to fix her…” George’s eyes brimmed with tears, pleading to his father. Kingsley came to join the older two men, encouraging George to stand back.

George stood there, tears streaming down his face as Remus, Arthur and Kingsly worked over your body. George was still recovering himself, swaying back and forth as his anxiety and blood pressure got higher. “C’mon, Georgie, let’s go sit you back down before you’re the next to pass out.” George reluctantly followed his twin. As soon as he was sat on the couch, Molly came rushing to his side again. George’s face was in his hands, making his words come out muffled, “Mum, please, I love you, but please give me some space right now.”

“Oh, darling, wha-why?” Molly stood up confused. George shook his head, “Mum you told her to go over there, to leave everyone else, to leave me. Why? Why did you do that? She was in there alone! Who knows how long she was passed out for!” George’s voice got higher and higher with each word. Molly took a step back in shock. “George, she- she was supposed to protect you. She was paired with you to keep you safe and look how you turned out, you could have died George!” He stood up instantly, face screwed in anger, “Well now she might die, mum.” And with that, he stomped up the stairs, two at a time until he reached his room.

—-----

What felt like hours later there was a knock on George’s door. He kept his face in his pillow, shouting back, “Go away.” He heard the door open regardless of his wishes. He remaining in his position even though he heard footsteps approaching him. He felt a dip in his bed before he heard your voice teasing him, “Don’t want to see me, is that it George? I heard I was all you could talk about.”

He turned over so quickly he nearly knocked you off the bed. He grabbed you onto his lap and embracing you tightly. You hissed slightly, causing him to pull your body away from his and he glanced down at your side, “Oh, y/n/n, I’m sorry, how’re you-how does it look?” You leaned back slightly, lifting your shirt to show him your waist wrapped in bandages, “Looks about as good as your head.” You touched the side of his face gently, fingers dancing over his damaged ear. His eyes closed at your touch. He relished in your presence, brain mulling over him almost losing you just hours earlier.

He hadn’t noticed himself become emotional until he felt your thumb wipe a tear off his cheek. “Why are you crying, Georgie?” Your voice was so soft, always a comfort to him. He shook his head, realizing how daft he’s been, “I’m just so stupid.” You laughed lightly, another mesmerizing sound to him, “What are you talking about?” He opened his eyes, though they were still downcast, “Y/n, I haven't been honest with you. Erm, honest with myself either, really.” He felt your fingers lift his chin, making him look into your eyes.

“You know you can tell me anything, no matter what you can tell me,” you wore a soft smile on your lips, doing your best to encourage him to continue. He just stared at you for a moment, taking in how gentle your eyes looked at him, the bit of dirt still on your cheek from earlier in the night, how soft your lips looked right now. George was so lost in thought he almost didn’t notice you getting closer to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck now, still waiting for him to respond to you.

“It’s just…I…,” he trailed off, eyes shooting to your lips, back to your eyes and down again. You just nodded, closing the gap further, “I know, Georgie, me too.” And then it happened, your lips were on his and he was in heaven. One of his hands cupped your face as his other steadied on your hip, your lips slotting against one another fervently and with purpose. You felt his tongue glide against your bottom lip and granted him entrance without hesitation, allowing him to explore your mouth and deepen the kiss.

He attempted to pull you even closer, hands grabbing at your waist. You pulled back with a hiss, both forgetting about your injury. “Oh Merlin, I’m-” You shook your head, smiling, “It’s okay Georgie, I’m okay.” You cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb across his skin, “You scared me tonight. You can’t scare me like that, I thought I was gonna lose you.” He chuckled at this, “Yeah well I could say the same to you.” You shook your head, smiling at the red head, “You know I realized something tonight.” He looked at you curiously, “Oh? And what’s that.”

“I love you Georgie,” you bit your lip, waiting on how he would respond. He reached up, his thumb lightly pulling your lip from your teeth, “I love you too, Y/n, so much.” He leaned in to kiss you once more, your lips just barely grazing each other when you heard someone clear their throat in the doorway. You both turned to see Fred, leaning against the door frame with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“As adorable as that was to witness, there’s someone downstairs wanting to talk to you both,” Fred pushed himself off the frame, turning to leave. He grabbed ahold of the frame quickly, popping his head back into the room, “If I wasn’t clear, I was talking about mum.” You climbed off of George’s lap, allowing him to also stand up from the bed, “Thanks genius, didn’t quite get that one.”

You walked with George down the stairs, fingers intertwined while doing so. Molly’s eyes clocked the connection immediately, her face becoming more apologetic than before, if that were even possible. She met you both at the bottom of the steps, wrapping you in her embrace immediately, “Darling, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for how I acted, what I said to you, it was rubbish, truly.” She pulled back, tears brimming her eyes. You shook your head, “Molly, no. He’s your son. You just love him so much, I understand the feeling.”

You looked up at George who gave you a small smile and a wink in return. Molly, missing nothing, quickly wrapped her arms around both your necks, planting kisses on each of your cheeks, whispering in your ears, “We’ve been waiting for this, your father and I. Probably another reason I was so emotional earlier.” George leaned back, “What dya mean you’ve been waiting?” Molly simply smiled, “I know the look dear, you’ve had it with her for, gosh, how long now Arthur?”

“Since year 5 for them both, Moll.” Arthur yelled from the other side of the room. You felt your cheeks burn, surely visibly red for everyone to see. George was also blushing, not realizing how blatantly obvious he had been over the years. Fred came up behind you both, slinging an arm over each of your shoulders, “Thank Merlin for that though, yeah? He wouldn’t nearly have been as passionate about where you were if he wasn’t always looking for you in a room. Probably would’ve been longer before we realized you were passed out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah, he really was a Saint for me tonight, wasn’t he?” Fred looked at you puzzled, “Come again?” You pointed at George’s bandaged ear, “He’s holy Fred, Saint-like.” Fred just groaned, rolling his eyes as he pushed through the both of you. George however smiled, grabbing your chin and planting another kiss on your lips with a smile.

Taglist:

@luv4kani ; @somekidinacoma ; @huahuali ; @ell0ra-br3kk3r ; @wollymalfoy ;

#harry potter #golden era #fred weasley #george weasley #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader

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aestheticpluto · 2 months

Text

A/N :- Sure! I don't know if it's a request? but yeah here is the 2nd part I hope you enjoy it! and forgive me if there is any grammatical mistakes [ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ] Synopsis :- "I'll be the one who will praise you, give you the love you lack, give you the affection you deserve"

No One's POV

"Y/n!" he said with his signature smile as he spotted you in the great hall "oh god-" you mumbled and hid your face with one hand as your friend looked at you "what's going on?" one of them asked "Ignore him, I also don't know what's up with him" you said sitting down on your sit.

Throughout the whole breakfast harry kept glancing at you time to time and whenever you looked back at him he'll just smile leaving you confused and maybe a little frightened

"Harry?" Hermione said glaring at Harry to finally finish his food "hm?" he looked at them and saw Ron giving him a weird look "Mate what happened? were you struck by some love potion?" "No I'm just trying to help them" Harry replied focusing back on to his meal "Doesn't look like it?" Hermione said raising her eyebrow "Trust me they are just insecure that no one loves them and I'm just giving the love they need" Harry protested, Hermione and Ron looked at each other then at Harry "Alright if that's what you call 'love' then we will support you" Hermione smiled encouragingly while Ron nodded smiling then going back to their conversation

As for you later that day you were just talking to your fellow Slytherin when Harry hugged you from behind "you didn't talk to me during the breakfast? I was missing your voice you know?" he chirped "Harry? what are you doing? let go" you said and tried to remove his hand from your waist "No" he tighten his grip "Uh- L/n I'll talk to you later" the person walks away in awkwardness since they thought they were interrupting something "Harry I already told you, It was just a misunderstanding I'm not lacking love nor I'm touch-starved" you turned around to face him "You don't need to lie dearie" he backs away a step away from you "how delusional you can get?" you glare at him getting annoyed by his lovesick attitude towards you "As much as it takes to make you happy" He replied taking your hand in his

You pulled your hand back "Harry why don't you understand?" you paused running your hand through your hair "I don't need any help I'm completely fine" you said in utter frustration "yes you do and you're just lying to yourself, Tell me didn't you cried last night for feeling like not even your parents love you?" "How do you-" "Tell me does anyone ever said 'I'm proud of you' even after all the hardwork you did?" you just looked away not having any answer for his questions "I'll be the one who will praise you, give you the love you lack, give you the affection you deserve" he took your hand back into his but this time you didn't struggle just looked down wondering weather to give up or not? after all you will get the affection many people fight for, you'll get love from the chosen one himself. you looked up and saw him smiling "Harry I-....I don't know" his other hand caressed your cheeks "Don't worry I'm always here and you'll soon know everything".

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fandom · 1 year

Text

What, no Stranger Things?

The first trailer for The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes dropped, and fans immediately began drawing comparisons between it and the original film series. Hoyoverse's new turn-based game, Honkai: Star Rail, is here in case you needed something other than Genshin Impact to play. Lesbian Visibility Week came and went, and with it, we saw an outpouring of support and art. Artists on Tumblr are keeping the Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fandom thriving. US politics trended after it was announced that Disney is suing Florida governor Ron DeSantis. Also, Fox News fired Tucker Carlson. This is Tumblr's Week in Review.

The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes

Honkai: Star Rail

Elon Musk

Ted Lasso

Lesbian Visibility Week

Succession

The Owl House

Florida

US Politics

Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir

Artists on Tumblr

Genshin Impact

Pokémon

The QSMP Minecraft Server

Tucker Carlson

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

9-1-1

Taylor Swift

Pedro Pascal

The Witcher

#week in review #05/01/2023 #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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mastermindmiko · 5 months

Text

Congrats! You're a heart breaker

an: the title will make sense when you read

Pairing: Bill Weasley + fem!reader

Word count: 1933

Summary: You're in love with Bill, unfortunately, Bill's engaged to Fleur

Warnings: Fights, Cheating, Shouting, that's it?

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Requests are open

His entire family is beaming around him, and my heart sinks deeper and deeper, as Fleur shows off the engagement ring she has on her finger. Molly and Ginny are less than pleased to have him marry fleur, but they're still excited.

A hand gets placed on my shoulder, and my grip around my cup tightens in surprise. I look to my side and there's Percy standing beside me. He squeezes my shoulder in support and asks, "Are you alright?"

"I will be." I reply and give him a weak smile. I look back at them and I can't seem to look away. He doesn't even notice that I'm here, and it makes sense, to him I'm only his younger brother's friend.

"Let's go somewhere." Percy says, like he does whenever I get sad. I let him lead me away up to his room. He closes the door behind us and I feel safe enough to let my eyes water. I sit on the bed and grab my blanket that he has stored for me under his bed.

Percy sits beside me and he holds my hand in support. He waves his wand and it brings over a box filled with books. Percy calls it 'the safety box' . It's filled with the books that bring me and Percy comfort and support, whenever one of us feels sad, we grab a book and start reading, the familiar characters fill us with a small sense of joy.

We started the box when Percy fought with his family and he found himself needing more comfort than usual. I never agreed with the whole disagreement, but I had to help my best friend. Eventually, after I gave him a stern talking to, and a couple break downs, he apologized to his family. Molly practically worshiped me the week after he came back.

I pick up one of my favorite books, and he hums in agreement. I grab one of the bookmarks that Percy has on his nightstand and shove it in the first page of the book. He squeezes my hand and says, "I don't think it's going to last."

"Why's that?"

"He doesn't love her." Percy says, and I bitterly chuckle, why would he be engaged to her if he didn't love her? Percy continues, "Bill's a bit like Ron, they're a bit dim when it comes to these types of things."

"And like you." I add, and Percy looks at me confused. I huff, incredulously and say, "Penelope had to give you obvious signs for three months before you noticed anything, and even when you did you couldn't get it through your thick skull. She had to ask you out!"

"That was one time!" Percy complains, and I laugh, "I could name the right if you like."

The door opens and Bill stands there. I wonder how he so easily got away from his family. He looks straight at Percy and then says, "We've been looking for you."

Bill's eyes flicker to Percy's hand that is joined to mine then looks back at his brother. He doesn't spare me a glance, as he turns around to leave, but not before adding, "Come on."

Percy stands and points to the door with his other hand, awkwardly, and repeats, "They're looking for me."

"Go, I'll just stay here for a while." I say, and give him a weak smile, I don't know why I try anymore, Percy already knows that it's fake. He clears his mouth and reluctantly goes to the door. He gives me one more look as if making sure that I'm safe, then shuts the door softly behind him.

I huff and lean back on the bed. This is what happens when you've had the same crush on the same stupid guy since first year.

~~~

I reluctantly went to work next Monday. The ministry has been on edge since the war's started, but it's gotten even worse after Dumbledore died. I worked on training the new Aurors, but not by going on field missions, but by giving them tasks to do, and things to learn.

It was boring most of the time, but I liked working with other people, and helping them reach their dreams of catching dark wizards. This wasn't originally the job I wanted, and I was so close to reaching my dream, but to me, staying home was my priority. I wonder what could've changed if I had gone to Egypt to be a curse breaker.

The worst part of the job was no doubt, the paper work. There was always heaps of it to get done and not enough time to do it. My feet dragged as I went to the office where I do the paper work, instead of the training room where I get to teach Aurors defensive spells.

I'm on the elevator when I notice that there's only few minutes before I'm supposed to be at my office. My boss was unfortunately, Nott Sr., who was not only a tough boss, but a boss was a sexist. He would do anything to get all the women in his department fired, so if I'm late, who knows what'll happen to me.

I bump into someone on my way to the office. I get steadied by two strong hands that feels familiar and I look up to find Bill looking at me. I can't move an inch, with the feelin of both his palms on my skin, it feels as if they're burning me, but I can't move.

"You didn't talk to me the other night." he clears his throat, and I avoid his gaze, I couldn't exactly do that with Fleur hanging off his arm, and I didn't want to either. I reply, shortly, "You were busy."

"Right." He replies, and I really don't know what to say. I look around and I see women eyeing Bill, like they've always had. Bill's attractive, I can't recall a time when he wasn't. We all fancied him when we were third years, but as soon as he graduated, everyone stopped, I didn't.

"Isn't this wonderful?" I hear someone say from behind me, and we turn to find Mr. Diggory coming towards us excitedly. Bill still has an arm on mine when Mr. Diggory comes to us. He grabs Bill's free hand and shakes it, excitedly, "Congratulations! Arthur told me this morning. It's such wonderful news."

Bill smiles awkwardly and thanks the man. Mr. Diggory looks at Bill's hand on my arm which has his engagement ring. I move away from him, as if I couldn't stand having that ring anywhere near me. Mr. Diggory looks between us and his eyes snap to my hand. He looks at me concerned, and says, "My dear, I think you've misplaced your ring! It's only been so song since you've had it!"

I flush a bright red and start to fumble trying to explain to the older man that I wasn't engaged to Bill, despite how much I wanted to be. Bill steps in, and says. "Oh! I'm not- she's not- I'm engaged to Fleur Delacour, sir. Y/N's just a friend."

"I'm one of Percy's closest friends." I interrupt. I've never been Bill's friend and I don't think I ever will be. I give Mr. Diggory a smile. I fix my bag over my shoulder, and excuse myself politely. I walk away, and notice, the clock once again. I groan, I wasn't going to enjoy the talk that Nott was going to give me.

I didn't bother walking faster anyway. I remember what Bill said, and I scoff at his words. When have I ever gave the impression that I was his friend?

~~~

I don't expect to see Bill again until I go to the Burrow once again, but the next day, I find him at the ministry. He was talking to someone, but when he catches me walking, he pauses his conversation and jogs towards me.

I try to rush past him, but he stands in front of me to stop me. I say, "I have class, and I need to go right now."

"You're class starts in ten minutes you have time." Bill says, and rolls his eyes at my antics. I huff and fold my arms over my chest. I look at him with a quirked eyebrow waiting for him to say what he wanted. He avoids my sharp gaze and he fumbles.

"You-you look good today." He stutters and it's my turn to roll my eyes. If it were only a few months ago, I would've jumped up and down at the words. I snap, "What do you want Bill? Why are you here? You don't work here."

"I'm finishing up some things for Gringotts." He says, and I frown, Gringotts, the god forsaken place where everything went to hell. The place he met Fleur. I say, "If you don't have anything to say, let me pass."

"I don't want us to be like this." Bill says, and I don't feel myself getting sad, instead I feel myself getting angry. I hiss, "Are you still engaged, Bill?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then this is how it's going to be." I huff, and walk past him. Onlookers are starting to pay attention to our conversation, and Bill notices. He pulls me off to the side into a secluded area near the toilets where he starts, "It doesn't have to-"

"Bill, leave me alone. Don't talk to me unless it's something Percy related. That's the only way we know each other." I say, and Bill says, "But I don't want it to be that way."

"Can't you understand that talking to you while seeing that stupid ring on your finger is killing me?!" I shout, and I feel my eyes tear up. I lean against the wall, and look away from him. I blink away the tears. I say, "Do you understand how it feels? How I feel?"

Bill doesn't say anything, so I continue to ramble, "I've liked you for forever Bill, and when I went to Egypt, we had fun. I even thought you feel in love with me, like I did with you. You tried to kiss me then ignored me, and I was an idiot to go to you and tell you that I loved you. I don't hear from you for months, and the next time I see you, you're with your family telling them that you got engaged!"

I rub my hands over my face, and wipe away the one tear that fell against my will. My mascara must be ruined. I sniffle and say, "So excuse me, if I don't want to be your friend."

"Wait!" Bill says, before I open the girl's toilets to escape when. I open the door with Bill behind me and we both stand transfixed at the sight inside. I gasp, and that alerts both, Fleur and Roger.

I had no idea that Fleur was here, Percy told me that she was going to France to her parents for a week. Turns out, Parents is code for Roger Davies. Fleur gasps, and pushes Roger away. Bill looks angry, and I take that as my sign to head to my class.

~~~

"The engagement is off." Percy tells me when he enters the flat. I hum in acknowledgement, looking at the set of papers in my hand that were the official grades of everyone in the class, these were the papers that would say if they were going to be Aurors or not.

"Don't you want to go talk to him?" Percy says, and I look up to see Percy shifting from foot to foot in front of me. I narrow my eyes at him, and I bite the insides of my cheeks, and said, "No."

"Too bad." Percy says and as I'm about to inquire about the weird sentence, Bill enters the flat. Percy heads out before Bill can close the door to give us some privacy. I stand up to go to my room, but Bill rushes to talk a hold of my wrist.

"I'm sorry."

Bill was never good at giving heart felt conversations or saying what he was feeling at least to me. He takes a step closer and I look away from him. He takes a hold of my chin in between his fingers, and makes me look at him. My heart skips several beats, and it reminds me of when he almost kissed me. The pleasant feeling leaves me and a bitter one takes it's place.

"I'm sorry that I was an idiot when I didn't kiss you that night." Bill says, and it all comes back to me. That night, I was about to finish my training as a curse breaker and they gave me my acceptance. I was going to work in Egypt, but decided against it. My life was here. I told him and I remember it very clearly.

He had a cake made with the words 'Congrats! You're an official curse breaker' on it. It made me telling him even harder but I did. He shrugged his shoulder like it was no big deal, but I could tell that he didn't want me to leave. The year I spent with him there was one of the happiest times of my life because my crush turned into love that I thought was reciprocated. He hugged me goodbye and when we parted he looked at me like he had something to say. Instead, he grabbed my chin the way he was doing now, and tried to kiss me. He stopped before our lips touched, and left.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I loved you back when you told me." He added. The morning after, I was about to leave for London, and I told him that I loved him. He apologized and left. Bill's hand moved to my cheek to cup it. He says, "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you for months, but I had to."

"Why?" I croak out, my voice heavy with emotion. He rubs his thumb over my cheek, soothingly, and answers, "We were going to be apart. We couldn't have a relationship like that, it would've been easier to get over you, if I didn't talk to you."

"And when you came back. What stopped you? Why did you propose to Fleur?" I ask, one question after the other, and he replies, "I couldn't be with you. I wouldn't do that Percy."

"What do you mean?" I ask, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He smiles, sadly and says, "Percy told me that he liked you, a while ago. I couldn't be with you when my brother liked you."

"A while ago? You mean..." I trail off, thinking if there were any signs of Percy liking me. I have a revelation and I hit his arm. I shout, "You broke my heart because Percy told you he liked me when we were in third year!"

"Ow! Ow! stop, he already gave me enough of that himself!" Bill complained, and moved away from my arms that were hitting him, aggressively. He help both my wrists to stop me, and he looked into my eyes, and said, "I'm sorry."

"You're going to have to make it up to me." I say, pointedly. He nods his head. He says, "I'm going to make it up to you, and heal that broken heart of yours. What's the first order of business?"

"Finally kissing me."

#harrypotterimagine #hogwarts #harry potter #harrypotter #fanfiction #fluff #gryffindor #harryjamespotter #harrypotterfluff #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #bill weasley imagines #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley #billweasley #weasleys #the weasleys #angst with a happy ending #light angst #bill weasley imagine

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cantsayidont · 4 months

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Despite its protestations of progressive values, STAR TREK media has always explicitly presented (and, with only fleeting exceptions, consistently celebrated) the Federation as an expansionist imperial power, engaged in a large-scale project of colonialism.

The usual apologia/rationalization for this, both from the franchise itself and from its fans, is that the Federation is also a post-scarcity socialist utopia. However, that is expressly not the case in TOS, despite the attempts of the later series to insist otherwise.

Indeed, the plots of some of the most famous and acclaimed episodes of TOS are specifically about resource extraction and ensuring the Federation's access to crucial resources, including lithium (in "Mudd's Women"), pergium (in "The Devil in the Dark"), and dilithium (in "Mirror, Mirror," et al). We are told repeatedly that the Enterprise has a mandate to use force to secure these resources if gentler methods fail. Moreover, while the Federation has a strategic interest in these resources, it's clear at various points in TOS that their extraction and exploitation are, to a significant extent if not exclusively, overseen by private interests for profit. For instance, in "Mudd's Women," Harry Mudd remarks:

Well, girls, lithium miners. Don't you understand? Lonely, isolated, overworked, rich lithium miners! Girls, do you still want husbands, hmm? Evie, you won't be satisfied with a mere ship's captain. I'll get you a man who can buy you a whole planet. Maggie, you're going to be a countess. Ruth, I'll make you a duchess. And I, I'll be running this starship. Captain James Kirk, the next orders you're taking will be given by Harcourt Fenton Mudd!

In "The Devil in the Dark," Kirk ultimately takes a regulatory position — he will not permit the pergium miners to kill the Horta or continue to destroy her eggs — but at no point does he suggest that stopping the pergium production that threatens the Horta is a viable or even acceptable alternative. The accord he proposes is contingent on the Horta's agreement that she and her children will support the mining efforts on her planet, since Kirk emphasizes that "a dozen planets" are depending on the miners to supply needed pergium. (What would have happened to her if she hadn't agreed is not stated, but the episode strongly suggests that she would have been severely punished for noncompliance with Kirk's mediated solution: forcibly relocated to some kind of Horta reservation away from the main mining operations, perhaps.) When the Horta does agree to this proposal, Kirk assures Vanderberg, "you people are going to be embarrassingly rich," which once again suggests that while the miners may have contractual agreements to delivery pergium to Federation worlds, they are still a private, for-profit business, not a Federation department or nationalized entity.

Profit is also Ron Tracey's motivation for breaking the Prime Directive in "The Omega Glory": He believes that he's discovered a "fountain of youth" that he can own, monopolize, and exploit, and that the value of that resource will be enough to buy his way out of legal trouble for his regulatory violations.

We mostly don't see the Enterprise crew handle money except on away missions in other cultures or times, but there are a number of indications that the Federation in this era has not abandoned money: For instance, Harry Mudd's list of past offenses includes purchasing a space vessel "with counterfeit currency," while in "The Apple," Kirk rhetorically asks if Spock knows how much Starfleet has invested in him, which Spock begins to answer, "One hundred twenty-two thousand two hundred …" before Kirk cuts him off. More tellingly, in "I, Mudd," we have the following exchange:

KIRK: All right, Harry, explain. How did you get here? We left you in custody after that affair on the Rigel mining planet. MUDD: Yes, well, I organized a technical information service bringing modern industrial techniques to backward planets, making available certain valuable patents to struggling young civilizations throughout the galaxy. KIRK: Did you pay royalties to the owners of those patents? MUDD: Well, actually, Kirk, as a defender of the free enterprise system, I found myself in a rather ambiguous conflict as a matter of principle. SPOCK: He did not pay royalties. MUDD: Knowledge, sir, should be free to all. KIRK: Who caught you? MUDD: That, sir, is an outrageous assumption. KIRK: Yes. Who caught you? MUDD: I sold the Denebians all the rights to a Vulcan fuel synthesizer. KIRK: And the Denebians contacted the Vulcans.

Whether Deneb is a member of the Federation at this time is unclear, but Vulcan certainly is, and so we may assume that Vulcan and presumably the Federation itself are also part of "the free enterprise system."

The first indication that the Federation does not use money is in STAR TREK IV, and it's not obvious there if Kirk's remark that "They're still using money" is talking about money more broadly or just physical currency, which the Federation may have phased out even if it still uses credit or electronic transfers of monetary value. (Certainly, McCoy's attempt in STAR TREK III to charter a starship indicates that he had some means of paying for passage, since the captain of the ship specifically demands more money upon learning of the intended destination.)

If we accept at face value the assertion of TNG and DS9 that the Federation has genuinely abandoned the use of money, rather than simply going cashless, the most reasonable Watsonian explanation is that this has been a relatively recent development during the 70–80 years between the TOS cast movies and TNG, most likely related to the development of replication technology (which the Federation did not yet have in Kirk's time).

Of course, from a Doylist standpoint, we could chalk up some of this incidental dialogue to the franchise's evolving construction of its own setting, in the same manner as anomalous references to Vulcans as "Vulcanians." Roddenberry and his apologists might also insist that he always meant to depict a socialist utopia, but was prevented by the nattering nabobs of negativity (i.e., the network's BS&P); I'm very skeptical of such claims, but the writers were acutely aware that depicting what Earth is like in Kirk's time would be opening a can of worms, which is why we didn't actually see 23rd century Earth (even briefly) until the movies.

However, the focus on resource extraction and its ramifications is such a load-bearing story element in TOS that the revisionist assertion that the Federation was already a post-scarcity socialist utopia in Kirk's time (as both DISCOVERY and STRANGE NEW WORLDS have attempted to claim) would require really substantial retcons of the original show, perhaps to the extent of insisting that some of those events never took place at all, or happened radically differently than what's in the TOS episodes most STAR TREK fans have seen. For me, anyway, that crosses a line from willing suspension of disbelief to "don't trust your lying eyes," and suggests a frustrating and somewhat disturbing determination to insist that TOS is something much purer and nobler than it is rather than grapple with its actual conceptual flaws and ideological shortcomings.

#teevee #star trek #star trek tos #james t kirk #harcourt fenton mudd #spock #gene roddenberry #i love tos -- truly -- but it doesn't claim to depict a utopia #and its hypocrisies and moral failings are substantial #i am very disgruntled by strange new worlds and discovery #because they clearly WANT to redo tos #but rather than rebooting it to align with their current vision #they've opted for this revisionist death-by-a-thousand-retcons approach

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comradeboyhalo · 6 months

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So I went back and watched Bad's conversations with Foolish, Baghera, and Tina and the difference in how Bad talks to each of them really speaks to who each character truly is.

While Bad's conversation with Foolish is still very much a test, he talks to Foolish like an equal, someone to bounce ideas off of. Bad knows Foolish's morals lines up with his own, and he is constantly seeking justification from him. They talk in metaphors, but their shared understanding of each other makes this one of the bluntest conversations Bad's had. He doesn't really lie, because he's heavily relying on Foolish to piece things together himself. It's him who asks openly "How much can I trust you, Foolish?" and Foolish gives him a very honest, logical answer. It's perfect for Bad. He's not looking for pity or emotional support. He just wants to know who's going to get in his way. And Foolish, untrustworthy as he may be, seems to be the only one actively cheering Bad on. They sound like co-conspirators. Bad knows he and Foolish are both playing two separate games of 3D chess ("It's a fun game, it's a fun game we're playing, Bad!"), so why would he pretend like he's not?

Throughout their conversation, he's constantly moving to talk to Foolish on the same ground level, until the very last conversation about Ron. This is when Bad drops his most important piece of info, shrouded completely in metaphor. He's looking up towards Foolish; he is finally showing his hand and placing Foolish on the upper ground. And when Foolish affirms what Bad wants the most from him--that family is above all else--he then tells him they're on the same page, and walks up to be eye-level with him once more.

"When the time comes, Foolish, I'm going to need your help. We'll burn it all down, Foolish." They do not trust each other, but can understand each other's motives. And this, for now, has Bad and Foolish on the same side.

Baghera and Bad's conversation has the most clash. The "test" for Baghera was in showing her Ron, so this is a continuation. Similar to Foolish, they have a co-conspirators vibe, but it's not fun for Baghera at all. It's as if her friend showed up with a dead body, and she's horrified but scrubbing blood out anyways. They're on different wavelengths: Baghera just wants to make this right, but Bad is only thinking about his benefit. ("Badboy, now we have to make things cleaner, not dirtier.") Baghera agrees with Bad in the sense that she's willing to do anything for the eggs--but she's not willing to justify it like Bad is. And here's the issue: Bad is not justifying his torture of Ron because he's trying to escape guilt, he genuinely believes his beliefs are correct. He talks childlishly to Baghera, like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar. He needs her to walk him through, step by step, the issues of his morals.

It's just...not a fun conversation. It feels like the devil trying to drag Baghera down to hell alongside him. Throughout their conversation, Bad's gaze is constantly shifting. With Foolish, they made constant eye contact. But here, all of Bad's agreements with Baghera comes off shady. He's just placating her. His mind is running a thousand miles a minute while they talk, and not all of it is shared with her. "So we're on the same page?" / "No." <- It's a direct parallel to landduo's conversation. They are on the same side, yes, but they are not the same.

"We can try to walk the road we're on. Baghera. And whatever paths we need to take to reach that destination, Baghera, I'm willing to take." Bad asks if Baghera understands him, and she says she does. Baghera will remain a trusted friend, but he'll remember their differences in beliefs. They share a destination, but not a path.

Now Tina and Bad...where do we even begin. Their conversation is the most emotionally-charged. Bad matches her vulnerability. This is simultaneously the most honest he's been, as well as the most manipulative. He gives her multiple tests throughout their talk, while also rewarding her with the most information. He doesn't actually want her to help him. These are all tests to see her reaction, to gauge her motives. ("I don't actually want you to say anything to Foolish.")

Tina's motives are selfish in such a pure way. She just wants to be trusted, wants to be helpful. And that is understandable to Bad. She is the only one who gets a vocal admission of trust, and I think it's because he can see right through her. I think there's part of him that admires her. They share commonalities. They are lonely. They want to be loved. They are willing to hurt themselves for love. But Tina, in Bad's eyes, is someone who has not yet been beaten down by the island. And instead of protecting her against all this, he believes it is inevitable she will fall. So he might as well kickstart her corruption and have her join him. Once again: "I think we're on the same page," he says.

She sits, huddled, as he circles her like a hawk, before they finally end up sitting side-by-side, not quite looking at each other. Tina is not an unsuspecting mouse, in this conversation. She is willing to fall into every trap she sees laid out if it means she can be trusted. Bad talks to her gently, with the hint of a threat. His finger is on the trigger, but the gun is not pointed at her.

"Y'know whats interesting, Tina? I like that. I think you just want someone who confides in you. Someone who cares about you for you no matter what. The eggs were like that, Tina." Bad sees his own self-destructiveness in Tina. He understands her from an emotional standpoint, a stark contrast from his understanding of Foolish. Perhaps he believes that if they get the eggs back, they'll both be fixed.

tl;dr: Bad treats Foolish as an equivalent gamemaster -> he understands that he and Foolish could potentially play on the same side. Baghera is Bad's trusted friend, but disagrees with his methods -> Bad will continue to trust her, but is aware their paths will diverge. Tina and Bad are very similar emotionally -> he is willing to use her, and she is willing to be used, and that puts them at an understanding.

#qsmp #badboyhalo #foolish gamers #baghera jones #tinakitten #analysis

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mixedup-sideblog · 13 days

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41 letters…what the fuck.

The charges listed against Peck:

- SA of a person under 16.

- SA by foreign object.

- SA oral.

- SA with use of anaesthesia or controlled substance.

- Using a minor for SA.

- Sending harmful matter.

Drake Bell was sexually tortured by this man when he was only 15 years old and 41 pieces of shit wrote this kind of crap in support of his abuser….

James Marsden:

“I do intend to shed light on the fact that he has learnt his lesson…the earth would fall from the sky before Brian would think about doing something like this again.”

- ahh don’t worry everyone, James is pretty sure he would never drug and r*pe a child again so let’s just let him off on this one!

Taran Killam:

“Brian is fully aware of his misjudgement and takes full responsibility.”

- poor old Brian making that minor misjudgement when he decided to prey on a child, turn him against his father, against his family, isolate him and groom him then repeatedly SA him. Don’t worry he’s stepping up and taking full responsibility!

Joanna Kerns:

“There must have been some extreme situation or temptation exerted upon him.” and “ I would hire him today to work with children.” And "a good man that made a mistake, not a bad man who got caught."

- see that’s all it was poor Brian could not resist the extreme temptation, of course blame the 15 year old victim not the fucking adult, it’s always the same bullshit from these people I swear.

Ron Melendez:

“I also know the young man…I have met his family, seen his behaviour…I saw him pursue a friendship with Brian, maintain their close ties…Brian made a large mistake but it was not his alone.”

- surprise, more victim blaming, more trivialising. A mistake is forgetting to lock your door or putting salt in your tea instead of sugar…repeatedly r*ping a child is not a fucking mistake - it’s a fucking crime!

Tom DeSanto:

“Brian is ashamed and remorseful about his lapse in judgment.” and “ I met Drake…he seemed very fearful of his father and unable to communicate with him whatever sexual issues he was going through”

- again - broken record here but r*ping a child is not a bloody lapse in judgment! And again - victim blaming and suggesting his family were at fault!

Will Freddie:

“I can only reiterate how devastated Brian is and how these past events have forever changed him.”

- well thank god Brian is so devastated that he got caught - poor thing. The threat of prison probably has ‘forever changed him’ but I’m sure his inability to stop himself from SAing kids has done far more significant damage to his victims (and yes I believe he has more than Drake).

Kimmy Robertson:

“An outrageous, overtly gay, over-sexed person…he totally took advantage of Brian’s willingness to help.”

- the amount of victim blaming in these letters, particularly this one, is just astounding. The 15 year old boy took advantage of the 40 something year old man? Do you really truly believe that Kimmy? I’ll say it again for the billionth time - What. The. Fuck.

And this is just the snippet, there are 34 more letters - all I’m sure are variations of the above examples. The fact that we live in a world where these people not only do and get away with this shit all the time but also are supported so wholeheartedly when they’re exposed for doing it, is quite frankly terrifying.

I do not accept - we did not know the extent of what we were defending as an excuse here. You knew the charges it’s even clear in the letters themselves - you know it’s about the SA of a child (a child some of you even knew personally), you decided to disregard them, defend them or downplay them. You are only coming out now with weak-ass apologies because you have to - in reality you never thought those letters would see the light of day outside the court room.

I’m sorry but the amount of victim blaming, trivialising and excusing here is just more proof to be added to the huge pile of evidence that Hollywood is a cesspit, it does not care about victims, it does not care about children.

If anyone is still in doubt about the amount of systemic CSA in Hollywood please go and watch An Open Secret (whole thing is on YouTube)- a movie that they desperately tried to bury but is just as hard hitting as ‘Quiet on Set.’

#drake bell #brian peck #quiet on set #nickelodeon #kimmy robertson #james marsden #taran killam #joanna kerns #ron melendez #Tom DeSanto #Will Freddie #an open secret #drake and josh #dan schneider #hollywood #rant #letters #so off my usual vibe on this blog but I just watched the doc and my blood is boiling #though I guess my first name for it was ranty side blog so I guess it fits

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madamepestilence · 5 months

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2024 US Election Information

We have roughly 1 year until the 2024 US election. I've put in some research, and here are my conclusions.

TLDR for those of you who don't have time or focus: Cornel West (Democratic Socialist running as People's Party -> Green Party) is the ideal candidate to vote for - normally I wouldn't advocate voting third party, but we may actually have a shot for once, and he has excellent policies. Jill Stein (Green Party) is a potential backup, though if West drops out, our best option for Democratic party is Marianne Williamson.

Please spread this information, especially to residents of Texas, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Arizona, Wisconsin, and Nevada. Detailed information under the cut.

Current Fascist and Republican Candidates

Donald Trump, Nikki Haley, Vivek Ramaswamy, Asa Hutchinson, Tim Scott, Ron DeSantis, Chris Christie, Ryan Binkley, and Doug Burgum.

I'm not going to entertain their details, but I will note that the information I picked up while being exposed to alt-right communities from the inside via my fascist parents earlier this year shows strong evidence that Republicans are likely going to split between Donald Trump, Ron DeSantis (viewed as a betrayal by Trump supporters), and openly fascist Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. (I'll cover him later).

My guess is a 6/3/1 Republican vote split between Trump/DeSantis/Kennedy, Jr..

Current Democratic Candidates

Joe Biden, Marianne Williamson, and Dean Philips.

Biden has overall failed to complete the majority of his campaign promises, and has been directly supporting Israel during the genocide of Palestine, as well as deferring to Republicans to be "bipartisan" (I don't think I have to stress enough that a bipartisan democrat is not a democrat) - do not vote for him.

Williamson is a high-school educated 71-year-old author from Los Angeles, California. She is known for being Oprah Winfrey's, "spiritual advisor," (double red flag), and dropped out during the 2020 election (another red flag).

While she supports the reinstatement of Roe v. Wade, the decriminalization of cannabis and psychedelic drugs, the reduction of CO2, and moving to 100% renewable energy by 2035, her advocacy for the outright banning of assault and semi-assault weapons for civilians without military reform of the same is a slight red flag when combined with her relationship with Oprah Winfrey (an Obama supporter, the president who authorized quite a lot of drone strikes in West Asia) and drop-out makes her not a great candidate.

Philips is a Bachelor's (Brown University) and Master's Business (University of Minnesota) educated 54-year-old three-term congressman who is noted for criticizing Biden running for a second term on account of both political moderacy and medical concerns.

Philips unfortunately wants to increase police funding for some reason, but advocated for better training, including mental health training. He also advocates for what he calls, "comprehensive immigration reform," in the form of increased border security and streamlining legal entry (this ignores the problem outlined by the UN that people seeking asylum are likely to have to enter a country illegally before they can seek support), and the only real good stance he has is giving reproductive rights to patients, rather than politicians.

Philips is essentially a moderate Republican, and is a bad candidate. Do not vote for him.

Current Independent Candidates

Fascist (not his stated political stance, but it's what he is)

Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. is a fascist that has openly quoted Nazi propaganda in his political campaigns, is an anti-vaccine activist, and has spread anti-science conspiracy theories such as vaccines causing autism and the non-existence of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic. I cannot stress this enough, do not fucking vote for Kennedy, Jr.

Democratic Socialist

Cornel West is a Bachelor's (Harvard University), Master's, and Ph.D. (both Princeton University) educated 70-year-old progressive activist that switched his running party from the People's Party to the Green Party, despite being a both public- and self-described democratic socialist.

When asked why he wasn't running as a Democrat against Biden, he stated that, "Neither party is speaking to the pressing needs of poor and working people."

His party plans are a wealth tax on the rich, a national $27 minimum wage, a federal Universal Basic Income, 6 months of paid family leave, a 4-day work week, national free Pre-K childcare, "Immediate cessation of all oil and gas leasing projects on federal lands and waters," "Federal moratorium on fracking, carbon capture, and direct air capture technologies, geoengineering, and other false climate solutions," putting abortion rights in the Constitution, and nationalized healthcare.

Here's where I want to lay out something important. I normally wouldn't advocate for voting for a third party candidate due to the Spoiler Effect, but

Considering the United States' Democratic majority, popular vote records showing a common Republican minority, the absolutely incredible policies West stands for,

The growing support for third parties in the United States, and his policies aligning with public opinion,

Cornel West is the ideal candidate to vote for. Spread this information like wildfire - we may have one shot at the first third party win in US history in the upcoming 2024 election, and

If successful the dominant parties will be Fascist vs. Socialist, denying most, if not all, future Republican wins.

Our target toss-up states are Pennsylvania, Georgia, Arizona, Wisconsin, and Nevada.

Converting Texas to third party, or even just Democrat, will throw the Republican vote entirely and all but guarantee a Democrat, or hopefully third party, 2024 election win,

Which is absolutely possible, as Texas is majority Democrat and wins Republican votes via gerrymandering despite public opinion, which is why it swings occasionally.

Democrat states also need to be switched to majority third party votes, with particular emphasis on California, New York, and Illinois.

GET PEOPLE TO VOTE FOR CORNEL WEST!

Reference map of polling for the future 2024 election:

Libertarian (slightly Conservative to alt-right, really depends on the person)

Chase Oliver is a surprisingly progressive high school educated 38-year-old anti-war Libertarian that left the Democratic party after witnessing Obama's aggressive anti-West Asian war policies who has expressed desires for criminal justice reform and ending wars abroad, though hasn't elaborated on either.

Green Party

Jill Stein is a Bachelor's (Harvard University) and Medical (Harvard Medical University) 73-year-old Jewish doctor who previously ran for and represented the Green-Rainbow Party as the governor of Massachusetts.

Stein is notable for being an activist and protestor who has both protested outside buildings and testified before legislative and other government bodies against coal plants, mercury leaks, and unclean and unsafe groundwater.

Presumably, her stances will focus on environmental protections, trans rights, and Jewish protections, making her a potential alternative should West drop out.

Conclusions:

Again, don't fucking vote for Trump, Haley, Ramaswamy, Hutchinson, Scott, DeSantis, Christie, Binkley, Burgum, Biden, Philips, or Kennedy, Jr..

Our potential backup Democratic candidate is Williamson.

The ideal candidate is West, with Stein as a viable backup.

As absurd as it sounds, I want you to vote third party for Cornel West.

If you want a wealth tax on the rich, a national $27 minimum wage, a federal Universal Basic Income,

6 months of paid family leave, a 4-day work week, national free Pre-K childcare,

"Immediate cessation of all oil and gas leasing projects on federal lands and waters," "Federal moratorium on fracking, carbon capture, and direct air capture technologies, geoengineering, and other false climate solutions,"

putting abortion rights in the Constitution, and nationalized healthcare,

VOTE FOR CORNEL WEST AND GET OTHER PEOPLE TO DO THE SAME.

WE HAVE A CHANCE AT THE FIRST THIRD PARTY WIN IN THE UNITED STATES AND THE DENIAL OF FUTURE REPUBLICAN WINS.

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